The Kidnapping of Stiles Stilinski
by Kinthinia
Summary: and how it became a romantic camping trip in the mountains of California with a not-so-scary werewolf. (Takes place after season two, only finishing up close to the end of November and with the Alpha Pack's arrival delayed)
1. Thursday

Thursday

It was disconcerting to say the least as he crawled out of his window and was forcefully pulled against a much more muscular body before he blacked out. And when he came to, he was in a very cushioned room. The floor was buried underneath what felt like thirty plush covered throw pillows. Throw pillows! Honestly, who even _used_ throw pillows? They were completely useless. Although, Stiles was beginning to realize that they were actually kind of comfortable. There was also a pile of blankets haphazardly thrown on top of him; as he crawled out from his sweltering cave, the scent of bacon and onions reached his nose.

The room was moderately sized and half of the floor was just a sea of throw pillows and a mess of blankets. Off to the side, and out of the way of the door, on the dark hardwood floor was a tray. There was an omelet and some bacon on it, with a glass of orange juice to the side. Stiles got to his feet with a bit of a struggle, the floor slippery and uncertain between his socked feet and the cushions. It smelled surprisingly delicious.

"Derek!" he shouted. "What the hell, Derek?!"

The door slowly opened and his scruffy face appeared through the crack. "Yes?" he asked, his voice entirely nonchalant -as though he hadn't come knocking on his window at two in the morning before kidnapping him.

"Where am I?"

"My cabin," he stated bluntly.

"You have a -of course you do. Why the hell am I here?" He attempted to fix the older man with an unwavering and stern glare to help communicate just how he disapproved of this. Whatever this was.

"Teamwork."

Stiles stared at him blankly. "What?"

"I found a way to make the pack stronger," he explained, looking mighty proud of himself. Stiles narrowed his eyes; wherever this went, he was not going to like it. "They have to find you, by working together."

"You kidnapped me!"

"I left a note. You can go back when they find you."

"No! I don't want to stay here, I want to go home! Oh god, my dad!"

He knew it was coming. His palms started sweating and he was hit with a cold flash just before the panic slammed into him, first stealing the breath from his lungs and then bringing him to his knees. The tears came next as he tried to get his breath back, pins and needles digging into his stomach. His father could turn back to how he was after Mom died -he could do any number of things, thinking the worst about Stiles' kidnapping. He could feel the light-headedness of a faint on the way and he attempted to take a deep breath and get some control back. It wasn't easy; it never was.

By the time he had calmed down, he was only aware then that Derek was sitting behind him and rubbing his back soothingly. "I need to talk to my dad." He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair.

Wordlessly Derek handed him a phone; it wasn't his usual one or Stiles' own. Actually, Stiles would probably be lucky if Derek hadn't thrown his phone out to keep up the whole kidnapped-for-the-good-of-the-pack spiel. Or he might have used it to bait Scott, in which case he'd be lucky again if Scott didn't demolish it accidentally. Stiles dialed his father's cell phone, his heart flying into his throat as he heard the despairing mumbled "hello?" of his father.

"He-hey Dad. I'm okay, I'm really fine and safe and I need you to not worry. This is… It's just a joke, on Scott. I'm sorry, I just- I didn't think to tell you. And please, don't tell anyone? It's really important… I'm sorry, I kno- I love you, bye." He hung up quickly, feeling the tears sting his eyes. He exhaled shakily, turning to Derek and handing the phone back. "So how exactly are you going to avoid Scott realizing that you're part of this? Considering how hard you've fought to keep me alive, it would be suspicious if you didn't help out."

"I'm in Canada, following a lead." Derek grinned toothily.

Stiles reached over, tugging the tray of breakfast closer. A part of him was relied to see the fork and knife; he had the distinct impression that it would've been just very Derek like if he didn't use silverware. He took a very tentative bite of the cooled omelet -half expecting it to be burned or partially uncooked -and was surprised at the mouthful of fluffy eggs-mushroom-onion taste he got instead. He devoured the omelet first, followed by the bacon and the orange juice. Maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised that Derek _could _cook considering how long he'd been on his own -and that wasn't the fairest thing to say, was it? -but somehow it was hard to come to terms that the violent stoic werewolf didn't eat raw food. At least as far as Stiles knew. He might have to entirely re-evaluate this so he didn't offend the guy and get himself killed in the process.

"This is very important for the pack," Derek offered. "You're the glue keeping them together. And I need them to be at their best -for their survival, and therefore your own."

They stepped out of the room, Derek carrying the tray and dirty dishes out to the main room. It was again a moderately sized cabin, with a very rustic feel to it with the wooden log design to it. The kitchen was practically non-existent, two counters, three cupboards, a small stove, a sink and a dish rack. The dining room was just out of the way of the kitchen, two elegant chairs and one small hand-carved table, practically tripping over into the living room with the sofa and armchair gathered around the fireplace. How rustic. To the right of his room was a flight of stairs leading to the basement, and off from the kitchen he could see there was another bedroom and no doubt at the end of that hall was a bathroom. It was oddly small and quaint here.

"If we can break them from their uselessness, it will be better for everyone," Derek added, setting the tray and dishes into the sink. "The alphas will arrive any day now and we can't afford for anymore of their cursed screw-ups."

"This is all very Beauty and the Beast -next I suppose you'll offer me a library so I'll fall in love with you?"

For a moment, Stiles feared that he had gone too far. Derek could very easily rip his heart still-beating from Stiles' chest, he could also tear his throat out as he frequently threatened to do so. But then Derek was laughing and Stiles tried to laugh along too, to shake off the anxiety, while his body prepared to bolt if necessary.

"No, not at all," Derek stated, his laughter cutting off abruptly. "I do have a training room though."

And there of course was the Derek he was used to dealing with. The stoic werewolf warrior.

"I could teach you self-defense," he offered unexpectedly.

"You just want an excuse to touch my sexy body," he joked easily.

Derek's flat, vacant, expression was neither surprising nor expected. He shook his head, heading down to the basement, and Stiles followed after him. It held a few pieces of equipment; a set of weights and a treadmill, there was a punching bag and some gymnast mats to cushion their falls. As Stiles looked from the mats to his teacher, he realized that he was actually going to be fighting Derek for all intents and purposes. On second thought, this probably wasn't the smartest thing to agree to. But it would be invaluable later on, and the bruises would be worth it.

"I'll teach you how to get free of holds," he stated, holding his arm out. "Grab my wrist and watch what I do."

Stiles only hoped it wouldn't involve him being thrown across the room as he grabbed Derek's wrist. With a simple twist, Derek broke free of it and broke down the move into several small preparations for it before Stiles got his chance to try. And it was surprisingly easy. Derek showed him how to break free from three different holds in the same fashion before moving onto some offensive moves. They'd been at it for about three hours when Derek called it quits, and if Stiles didn't know any better he would have said that the werewolf was impressed. They'd worked up a good sweat and Stiles was doing his best to not let it show. Derek was barely winded, looking as unperturbed as he usually did.

"Good job," Derek acknowledged with a proud smile. "You're a fast learner."

Stiles stared at him, his emotions spiraling out of his control.

"What?" Derek demanded gruffly, staring down at him.

"You… like, you just smiled."

"And…?"

"You never smile. It's weird."

"There isn't much cause or it," Derek remarked, heading back upstairs.

Stiles followed him; his thoughts attempting to reassemble themselves helpfully, could only notice one small detail at the moment. Derek had a nice ass. Which was not at all helpful, as he felt his face flame with a burning blush. Couldn't someone less hot and more social have kidnapped him? This could become a very long stay indeed unless Scott proved himself more useful -and at the most Stiles was willing to guess it would take Scott three days to find him. Definitely longer than one day.

Derek headed for the kitchen, surveying their supplies critically. "Do you want steak?" he asked, as the fridge shut behind him.

"Do you have curly fries?"

Derek's only response was to raise one brow, as though waiting for a more serious response.

"Fine, if all you have is steak, we can have steak. But it's incredibly cliché."

"There's nothing wrong with steak," Derek replied.

"Of course not, but would it kill you to eat some vegetables?"

"I eat vegetables."

"I've never seen you eat vegetables. But I can cook for us, if you don't mind." At least cooking was something, something to keep him occupied other than Derek's well-built body and his very fine ass -oh and there went that blush. Trying to be casual about it, he turned away, running his hand through his hair.

"If you want… cook whatever you want," Derek said, his voice oddly cautious.

"I'm not going to poison you," Stiles snapped irritably, marching over to the kitchen. He cooked most of the time at home -kitchens were a familiar place and more than a little mind easing. Not that he wanted to do this for the rest of his life, but it wasn't so bad.

Stiles turned to the pantry he had seen Derek examining earlier and started pulling out ingredients. It was surprisingly well stocked and in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Derek liked cooking too. He wasn't even aware of Derek walking away, or the shower starting up, until he was halfway through finishing the stir fry off when Derek walked past, clad in only a white towel and showing off his excellent physique. With a grumble, Stiles finishes off the toasted sesame seeds and starts serving dinner. Derek rejoined him a moment later, hair damp and wearing real clothes -Stiles noted with some dissatisfaction. He could be a jerk, but he was a good-hearted jerk and for all that he had kidnapped him Derek was a lot nicer to look at than the wood logs in this place. Derek sat down just as Stiles finished setting the silverware down. With the small size of the kitchen it was much easier to find everything.

"Smells good," Derek commented, smiling.

It really was weird to see Derek smile, but he couldn't exactly fault him for not smiling often enough considering everything. It felt like they hadn't had a single moment to catch their breath since Scott turned into a werewolf, really. And Derek's life had probably been out of control since his parents died and only nicely sorted itself before Laura was killed. A wave of sympathy flew through him again. Everything was completely out of control and if that other pack arrived as soon as Derek was expecting them to… well Stiles could understand why he had kidnapped him. It didn't mean he condoned it, not entirely, but he could understand why. It was important that they worked together. What was going to make it even harder was the fact that Scott wasn't part of Derek's pack, not willingly anyways and even with that they would have to find some way to work together.

They finished in silence, Stiles so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even realized they'd eaten in complete silence. Probably just as well, but silence was quite a nuisance often enough. He hated silences -they were so _awkward_, especially with Derek. He collected the dishes wordlessly, carrying them over to the sink before starting to wash them and Stiles hurried over to help out only to find that Derek used his body to effectively block him from doing so.

"You cooked, I clean," Derek informed him.

"This is the cleanest I've ever seen, I doubt your cleaning skills." Derek scowls menacingly. "You don't scare me," Stiles added smugly.

Derek hip-checked him gently -gently only in the sense that he used just enough force to move Stiles out of the way without flinging him halfway across the room -as he finished cleaning.

"Rude," Stiles huffed, frowning at him. When exactly had he stopped being afraid of Derek anyways? Oh yeah, because he needed him alive for Scott to be able to find him. And also because he was all bark and no bite (so far, and hopefully for the rest of their acquaintance).

"Oh go to bed," Derek retorted as he moved onto drying the dishes.

"No way! You're not my dad!"

Derek arched a brow. "No, I'm not. But I am the alpha." His eyes flash red.

Show-off, Stiles thought, rolling his eyes. "I'm aware."

There was a knock on the door that brought them all to silence. Derek whirled to face the door, setting the dish down, all of his senses on high alert. Stiles walked over, opening the door cautiously. Instead of it being his father or a police officer or even Scott -there stood Danny, shivering in the snowfall. (So Derek had his cabin up in the mountains somewhere, high enough there was actually snow here, Stiles noted).

"Danny?!"

"Stiles? What are you doing out here?"

"Oh, uh nothing, I'm just out here with Derek… hanging out." He gestures to Derek.

Derek at least attempted to look normal and relaxed. From beside Danny, Stiles noticed that there was someone else standing behind him on the steps as he brushed the snow off. Ah, probably Danny's boyfriend Caden -at least he hoped it was, because from what he had heard Caden sounded like a good guy.

"We weren't prepared for the weather," Caden said, almost apologetically as he looked up at Stiles.

"Derek?" Danny asked confusedly, staring intently at Derek. "I thought he was your cousin Miguel."

Shit… right. He'd forgotten about that. "W-well I didn't want anyone knowing I was dating an older guy -my dad would kill me!" he laughed nervously. "So that's why I told you he's my cousin Miguel, which he's not, he's my boyfriend and we're not related."

Stiles didn't have to turn around to know that Derek was glaring at his back; he could feel the murderous intent from where he was standing. Well, it was better than telling the truth. Oh hi Danny, yeah this is Derek Hale, no we don't know each other that well but he decided to kidnap me to teach Scott a lesson -hey, please don't tell my dad? Yeah. He noticed that both Danny and his boyfriend were shivering and he hurriedly moved aside.

"I'm going to talk to Derek for a minute, but please come in," he told them before turning and grabbing Derek's hand. He hauled him to back to the cushioned room he had woken up in. "We can't leave them out there to freeze, I would feel bad for Danny, he's practically a saint."

"And they would sleep where?" he demanded snippily. "Huh _boyfriend?_" He all but growled that last part.

"My room, and I could bunk with you, please Derek," he begged, throwing in puppy eyes.

"Fine," Derek said, his expression flat and closed off once again. "But you feed them and make sure they don't smell of you and make sure they don't _tell_ anyone."

"I'll make sure they don't tell a soul, dear," he chuckled as he left the bedroom. Danny was just hanging their jackets up, smiling softly as Caden pulled back. They were pretty cute together, he had to admit. "Good news guys, you can stay here. But you can't tell anyone you saw me here."

"No problem," Caden said with a warm smile.

"I won't tell a soul," Danny agreed.


	2. Thursday Night

"What're you guys doing out here?" Stiles asked, looking between them curiously.

"We _were_ supposed to go camping," Caden admitted with a sheepish grin. "We were taking a hike and it started to snow. I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised, up here this late in the year and all, but I had hoped it would hold off a bit longer."

Danny sat down on the sofa with a relieved sigh, rubbing his hands together. Caden sat next to him, placing one of his hands over Danny's. "I'm sorry the weather's ruined this."

"It's okay baby, we can try again in the summer," Caden replied with a gentle smile.

Stiles' heart flickered with a pang of loneliness that he was never quite used to. Since breaking up, Scott had been (understandably) a little mopey, but also smug with confidence that Allison would return to him when she was ready. And Stiles had been spending the last few days with his best friend, simultaneously trying to help improve his grades (which was a complete and utter disaster so far) and trying to cheer him up and keep him distracted. Lydia was miserable, but more unreachable than ever since Jackson and his family had suddenly packed up and moved to Texas for a job promotion. Stiles found that he couldn't be everywhere at the same time, and instead tried to make the best of things for Scott.

Well, at least things were going pretty good for Danny by the looks of things as the two of them cuddled on the couch. Stiles bit down the sting of jealousy, getting to his feet and walking to the bedroom where he knew Derek was hiding out. He was happy for Danny. But he also felt like he was intruding on the two of them, and being the third wheel always sucked. His pretend-boyfriend ought to be doing something to fix that problem, but, he was again, just pretend.

"They're... an interesting couple," Caden murmured, not quite low enough to avoid being overheard.

Stiles heard Danny's soft reply even as he walked into the bedroom to confront Derek: "You have no idea sweetheart."

He found Derek sitting in the farthest corner of the room, wearing his almost perpetual scowl. It wouldn't kill him to smile a bit more, it might actually be an improvement, all things considered. Derek's room wasn't really surprising in how little decoration it had. There were no family pictures -and with a pang in his heart, Stiles wondered if he even had anything when the fire was done with his house. It was almost militarily devoid of personal touch in this room, which hopefully said more about how rarely Derek came out here for camping or whatever it was that he did out here.

"Are you going to hide in here all night?"

"If I have to." The sullen glower Derek shot at him was not missed, but it was ignored.

"I don't think Danny is going to bite you, you could come out and have a nice conversation with him... even though last time you saw him, I kind of pimped you out to him."

Derek made a face, looking like he would rather face any other fate in the world than that one. "No."

"Please Derek, for me?" God, he didn't want to be stuck being the third wheel forever.

"No," he repeated with a scowl.

"Well..." Stiles started, thinking rapidly, "if you don't, maybe I'll just have to make up some stories about how sweet and romantic you are, and how amazing you are in bed." Honey worked better than vinegar didn't it? Stiles flashed a hopeful smile at the werewolf -did werewolves even like honey? He hoped they did, because vinegar smelled bad and the scent saturated everything.

"I will tell them about the Star Wars pajamas, the Angry Bird collection I have noticed _and _your Superman cape if you even think about it," Derek ground out.

Stiles wasn't sure whether he should be creeped out that Derek had noticed all of that, or impressed that he knew what they were. And of course, stubborn Derek couldn't just take the honey could he? Time to get the vinegar out.

"Go ahead -Danny already knows I'm weird. I could always tell them that you have a ridiculously small penis and that's why you're so insecure."

"I'll rip your throat out," Derek growled threateningly.

"Oh please, like you scare me," he half-bluffed.

Derek got to his feet menacingly and Stiles swore he could see the murder in his eyes. But he would be stay alive at least until Scott arrived. So he had approximately that long to live... he wasn't quite sure whether he wanted Scott to show up sooner or later with that knowledge. Stiles fixed Derek with an impressive glower.

"Since I will not be joining you... _hun, _you should go and astound them with your hosting abilities." And with that, Derek shoved Stiles out of the bedroom.

Stiles slipped on his socked feet, sliding almost all the way to the dining chair before catching himself. He threw a dirty look over his shoulder, but it was too dark to tell if Derek had even noticed. Not that he cared, but it would have made Stiles feel better about it. He looked over to see Caden and Danny clinging to each other for whatever excess warmth there was to be had. He felt a flicker of guilt; he hadn't even thought that they might have been cold. Their jackets had been practically soaked through with melted snow.

"Can I get you guys anything to drink?"

"Tea would be great, I can help you make it. Do you want anything babe?" he asked, smiling adoringly at his boyfriend.

Caden was about the same height as Danny and unusually pale for this area of California -unless he was from this part, or just simply new. His hair was damp, dark and slightly curly -no doubt kept under control with a lot of products. It was his eyes that stood out most to Stiles, every time he looked at the guy he would find intense blue-gray eyes following his every move. He wore a black form fitting t-shirt and jeans, a leather band clung to his wrist and there was a barely noticeable silver chain around his neck. Noticing the fine layer of scruff Caden had, Stiles was left wondering if he was older than he looked. They looked really good together, Stiles noted with some envy.

"Something warm would be great, please?" he murmured, smiling gratefully.

"Alright, tea it is." Noticing Danny start to move, Stiles stopped him with a shake of his head. "It's alright, you guys just... get warm."

Stiles turns back, jumping when he saw a tall, dark shape from the corner of his eye. He whirled only to see that Derek had left his room and was hovering near the kitchen. Whether it was his born werewolf-ness that let him blend into the dark like that or just some inate part of Derek, Stiles wished he could be more normal. Just a little.

"Jesus! Derek stop being creepy!" Stiles snapped, his heart pounding.

"Not my fault you didn't notice," he drawled with a grin and it was all predatory, his teeth flashing in the dim light.

"Oh god, go back to the bedroom you nerd, that seems to be where I like you best anyway."

There was a moment of prolonged silence as Stiles realized what he had just said, aware of the heat in his face as he heard Danny attempt to stifle a laugh and what had to be Caden sniggering. And then there was Derek's too cold silence and if they weren't careful, Danny and Caden would _know_ and there would be so much for him to try and explain that he never could and this would just be bad and he'd probably never live it down and then Lydia would find out and soon the whole school would know -because really, Lydia always knew everything no matter it was -and he was going to have to pack up and move out of the city in order to escape his shame -

"Not tonight you won't," Derek growled snidely, stalking off to the bedroom. The door shut behind him with more force than necessary.

He let out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding, feeling a lot of tension ease out of him. Of course Derek would understand what it meant if he didn't play along with Stiles' scenario to some extent. His position was a whole lot riskier than Stiles' was -partly because it involved Stiles no doubt. Stiles moved to the kitchen automatically, seeking out the tea he had spotted earlier as he made a cup for both Danny and Caden. He wasn't even aware of it until he was gently moved out of the way by Danny, that his friend had taken over for looking after himself and his boyfriend. In hindsight, Danny had probably done it so that Stiles could go and make up with his "boyfriend" but at the moment Stiles wasn't really thinking about that particular aspect even as he made an extra mug of tea just the way his mother had always taught him.

It had been a long, long time since he had made tea this way. The last time was probably when he was twelve years old and his father was sick and he brought him the one thing that he knew always made everyone else better -his mother's tea. He stirred in the teaspoon of honey, feeling the familiar bubble of grief embrace him as he thought of her and missed her and then it slipped away. He could remember when he was younger, how she would make the tea whenever he was upset or sick. With a silent sigh, he took the prepared mug and walked over to Derek's room, letting himself in easily.

He offered Derek the tea, surprised to realize that the older man had lit two candles and was sitting comfortably in the semi-dark. He could have turned the lamp on or something, but... he was probably more content with the candlelight. Derek took the tea, regarding Stiles almost suspiciously.

"I'm sorry I keep making inappropriate jokes," he said quietly. "Just... nerves, I guess?" He laughed nervously, looking away.

Derek nodded briefly, taking a cautious sip of the tea. His eyes widened in surprise and he took another sip. Stiles let himself smile.

"It's good," Derek admitted grudgingly. "Now go host, go entertain your guests."

Stiles stuck his tongue out at Derek before going back into the living room. They had set their empty tea mugs on the coffee table; Danny covered a yawn, his head resting on Caden's shoulder.

"I think we're about ready for bed now," Caden murmured, kissing Danny's cheek softly. The lacrosse player smiled sleepily and Caden glanced over at Stiles.

"Follow me!" he offered helpfully, leading them to the room that he had woken up in.

Danny sleepily followed after them. "Thanks for everything Stiles, sorry we crashed your romantic getaway with Derek." Danny didn't wait a moment longer before laying down on the throw-cushion floor, tugging the blankets up over him.

Caden smiled apologetically. "Really sorry about that; I bet he had planned something special planned for you and we ruined it. He seems like one of those guys." And, unexpectedly, he hugged Stiles. "Thanks for letting us stay here," he added, letting go and shutting the door behind him.

"It's okay," Stiles told the door before awkwardly turning away and heading back to Derek's room. He shut off the lights one by one as he followed the dim glow of candlelight.

Derek lays comfortably sprawled across the bed, his empty teacup on the nightstand. It was impossible to tell whether he was asleep or just resting, Stiles realized as he dug around in the dresser for something to wear to bed. He had to hide a smile when he found his old Star Wars pajamas and, once more, wasn't sure whether to be touched or creeped out as he padded back out to the bathroom to change into them. They were definitely better than nothing, and quite honestly they were his favorite pajama pants. Not because of the design so much, but because they were just comfy. Or so Stiles had been telling himself for years.

Stiles crept back into the room, blowing out the candle closest to him before sitting precariously on the bed. Derek didn't leave a lot of space left. He nudged the werewolf with a toe to his side cautiously, surprised to find that the man was so much warmer than he was in this cold house. The chill had probably been creeping in all night, but Stiles only came to this realization as he sat there in his relatively thin pajama pants. Derek was also laying on top of all the blankets -convenient. Derek opened one eye, watching Stiles suspiciously.

"It's cold," he mumbled sheepishly.

"Then use the blankets."

"You're laying on them!" he hissed.

Derek grumbled, getting up. Stiles took the opportunity to grab a fistful of the blankets and relievedly pulled them over his body, looking at Derek apprehensively. And then he realized that there was no way this could be worse than the Kanima poisoning situation where he had been stuck to Derek for quite some time. At least this way, there was a great space divide between them, made even greater when Derek set his pillow behind his hip as he sat back down, blowing the last candle out.

Sleep came easier than he expected, whether because he had spent so much time arguing and fighting with Derek that he had exhausted himself or just because it did, Stiles wasn't quite sure. What he was aware of though, was that overnight it had gotten a lot closer and he woke up sometime close to dawn practically freezing before moving closer to the source of heat. At home, the equivalent would have been towards his wall. However, in this case, it was closer to a pillow which he kicked out of his way shortly thereafter and then to his nice warm solid wall...

But this was one of those hazy moments, late in the night and too early in the morning that Stiles would later, not recall, aside from knowing that he had been cold.

* * *

_Wow! Thanks so much for the response guys. I would love to hear from all you, I'm not used to getting this much feedback after posting just one chapter. So here's another. I'll have a lot of free time this weekend and I'll probably get another chapter or two out. I really love feedback, so if reviewing isn't physically painful I'd love to know what you guys are interested in seeing happen next and what you think might happen. And what do you think of Caden? Just... whatever you feel like saying, I love hearing it. And again, thank you so much for the faves and the follows and the reviews. :)_


	3. Friday

"…off me," he growled.

Stiles woke up to the uncomfortable sensation of falling, yelping as he landed on the unforgiving hardwood floor. Derek sat up, fixing him with a half-hearted glare as Stiles tried to figure out what exactly had happened.

"The hell?" he demanded groggily, sitting up, rubbing his sore back.

"You wouldn't move," Derek said, sounding almost apologetic.

"What?"

"You were all…" Derek frowned, miming with his arms.

If Derek were to ever be a mime, he would fail because with the gestures he was showing, Stiles quickly put together that he had been attempting to snuggle the other man. And at some point last night, he had evidently thrown his arms around Derek and latched on, refusing to let go when Derek wanted him to.

"You didn't have to throw me off," Stiles snapped, getting to his feet. "You could've just shook me awake or something!"

He could have at least looked apologetic or something, Stiles thought to himself as he grabbed his clothes from yesterday and slammed the door behind him. He marched over to the bathroom, changing quickly. Well he wasn't going to stay here for a minute longer.

He didn't care about Derek or his stupid plan. His father was probably still worried sick about him, no matter what he said on the phone, but his father would at least be comforted knowing that he was alive and okay as of yesterday. But that was no guarantee for anything. Derek could do whatever the hell he wanted -and if he needed a hostage so badly, he could pick someone else. Like Allison maybe. Stiles hid a grin at that. If he could even get to her without her killing him, or Chris killing him, let alone taking her out to the wilderness and _keep_ her _from_ killing him in addition to Chris tracking him down… Melissa would be an option, but she probably wouldn't be any happier about the situation and Scott would go crazy.

He walked out the front door, letting the door swing shut behind him as he marched off determinedly through the foot and a half of snow that had fallen overnight.

"Stiles! Stop!" he heard Derek yell from behind him.

"No! I am going home -I don't care about this stupid plan anymore! Why should I even help you?! This isn't my pack!"

"Because you're their pack -their glue. And they need this in order to survive," he explained rationally.

"They were doing fine before you kidnapped me!"

"When the Alpha Pack comes, if they find my leadership… to be lacking, they won't leave. And some of them are older, traditionalists -they have different ideas on how to treat humans. They don't care about killing people, Stiles. The odd human every now and then makes a good snack, keeps the people on their toes and out of strangers' ways.

"You don't think they'll care about you? You spend so much time with Scott, you smell part werewolf. Your place reeks of it too! Sometimes they like keeping human pets, if you're lucky that's what they'll think you are. If you're not so lucky, they'll tear down the walls and kill you. And your father."

Stiles stared at him for a moment before turning and walking away. Knowing that might have been handy to know earlier -his father could end up being drawn into this whole mess? But then again, he already had been so many times earlier… This whole thing was a gigantic mess and he could place most of the blame at Peter's feet for turning Scott. What had happened, had already happened though and now what the hell were they supposed to do?

"Where are you going?" Derek demanded exasperatedly as he stomped through the snow, towards Stiles.

"Home!" he shouted. "I don't want to be here anymore."

"You can't," Derek said again, sounding for all the world very confused.

"I can and I am!"

"Stiles-" Derek said, reaching out and grabbing him by the arm.

For the life of him, Stiles would wonder why he did it. The best explanation he could come up with was that Derek was a very good teacher and the reaction was, at best, instinctual. He moved into Derek's body, shifting his arm so that it lined up with the gap between Derek's thumb and forefinger and in one easy movement he jammed his knee up -and jerked his arm back.

"Fuck," he heard Derek groan, his eyes flashing red momentarily.

And shit, that had not been the brightest thing to do, had it? Stiles turned quickly intending to run and get away from the pained and furious werewolf behind him, but he was too slow and he didn't really stand a chance. Derek leapt, dragging Stiles down into the snow, his body weight fully resting on Stiles -and he should feel really grateful that he had been turning to glance over his shoulder because he wasn't face-first in the snow this way.

Stiles opened his mouth to say something but was silenced by Derek's warning growl, the red flashing dangerously again, so Stiles shut up. It shouldn't have been so easy to forget how dangerous Derek was.

"Let me go?" he asked, almost hopeful.

"No," Derek growled, shifting as the red in his eyes receded.

"Then get off me?" He pushed at Derek hopefully, only encountering hard and unmoving muscle.

"No."

"I hate your stupid face," he grumbled, letting his hands fall into the snow and trying to not remember how the muscle beneath them felt.

"Good. Now stop being irrational." It was practically an order, but Derek didn't seem to care. In fact, he seemed almost comfortable pinning Stiles to the snow in below zero weather.

Stiles fixed him with his best glare for no other reason than how uncomfortable and cold this was getting. A voice in the back of his mind helpfully reminded him how much warmer Derek was and that there was only a thin layer of t-shirt blocking his access to that hard, muscular body -and this was not the time or place for those thoughts. Stiles wiggled himself a little deeper into the snow.

"Are you going to stop running?"

Stiles nodded reluctantly as the cold started to really bite into his skin.

"Are you going to come inside?"

Again, he nodded. At least inside it would be warm and they wouldn't be in such quite close-quarters and he might stand a chance to get warm and not be thinking the same things.

"You promise?"

"Yes," he ground out, scowling at Derek.

Derek moved off him, getting back to his feet. He didn't offer Stiles a hand up. He frowned, getting to his feet, quickly rubbing his hands on his pants to try and get rid of the snow only to find that there was snow melting and he was freaking cold.

"M'cold."

"Of course idiot," Derek said - was there a note of affection to that? -and he grabbed Stiles by the wrist and hauled him back in the direction they had come from. "You're human, you can't run around in the snow in a t-shirt and jeans and expect to stay warm."

When they were back, the cabin felt no warmer than it had earlier. Danny was already up, bustling around the kitchen a little clumsily as he looked for ingredients to make breakfast of some sort. Stiles thought he heard Derek sigh as he pushed Stiles towards his room and the bathroom.

"Go shower, get warm, you can wear something of mine while your stuff dries."

"Okay…" From Derek's tone, he got the distinct feeling that there were not going to be arguments allowed. Feeling like a scolded child, he obediently followed Derek's orders.

It was to his immense relief that he found it was good advice as he slowly began to warm up. His clothes were down the laundry chute -and it was a weird image to think that Derek was downstairs and setting them to dry. He dug through the drawer in Derek's room, finding a shirt that wouldn't be unbearably large and he just gave up on the pants, pulling out some sweats and throwing them on. He tied an extra tight knot in them and took a few cautious steps around the bedroom, grateful when they didn't just fall off.

He entered the kitchen, where Danny was chatting with Caden as he served pancakes. Derek sat silently at the table and Stiles had to stifle a grin at how Danny and Caden continued on as though he wasn't there. But they had served him, it was just that they were so wrapped up in each other that it wouldn't have mattered if it was a roomful of rowdy people -those two were head over heels for each other. The pancakes were good, delicious even and Stiles wondered if Danny was just naturally perfect at everything.

Of course that was an absurd thought, but nonetheless. After breakfast, Danny and Caden hugged them both goodbye and headed out for their car. They thanked them for allowing them to stay the night and promised again, that they would say nothing of having met them. After washing the dishes, Stiles sat down and tried to find something to do. But there was nothing. At all. And although Derek's suggestion of "training" would help pass the time, it would not be entirely entertaining. Stiles would have killed for a tv or a computer or even his _phone_, within the fifteen minutes of dead silence and boredom.

"Do you do anything other train?" Stiles asked when Derek finished stoking the fire.

"You can never be too prepared." And that was more evasive than he would have thought.

"But there's so much more to life than that. You could read a book, or go out and see a movie or go on a date with someone…" Derek just looked at him. "Oh god, you've never considered having a life, have you?"

"This is life…?"

"When was the last time you went out on a date anyways?"

Stiles watched as the frown and a dark shadow passed over Derek's face. Wow.

"That long, huh?"

"Laura tried to get me out," he said quietly, shrugging. "It didn't work out well."

"That's it! When we get back I'm helping you get a date, because although I thought my life was sad, it isn't as sad as yours."

Derek pierced Stiles with a very bored expression. Stiles let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding in, sticking his tongue out in retaliation. Derek rolled his eyes, shaking his head he walked away. Despite the warm fire, it was still a little chilly so he got up and grabbed one of the blankets for the bedroom, sitting back down, comfortably wrapped in it. Stiles actually listened to the ticking of the clock, _counting_ the agonizing seconds and then calculating them into the minutes it took for Derek to shower, walk across the room clad in only a towel to go and change before finally coming back to save Stiles' from the approaching insanity.

Derek checked the fire once more, adding another log. "Do you count camping as being a part of the regular activities that make up some part of what you consider a fulfilling life?" he asked absently.

"Do you do it with other people?"

Derek paused for a moment, turning away from the fire. "I'm doing it with you."

Stiles smiled at that. "To be fair, you did kidnap me. But yes, this counts. A part of me wants to ask you about your sex life, but I don't need to know that much about you."

"Why does my sex life matter?" he asked with a sigh.

"Well if you haven't been out on a date in years, I doubt you've had sex recently."

Derek scoffed. "And if I have?"

"Well how would you even know how to seduce people? Or do you just stand there all brooding and threaten them with angry eyes? I have a hard time believing you could even seduce one person."

"You wouldn't know seduction if it hit you upside the head."

"What makes you think that?"

Derek arched a skeptical brow. "Ever slept with anybody?"

"Well no. But I've watched enough porn to know that your personality does not suggest you can be seductive."

Derek laughed. It was… weird, to hear him laughing and a bolt of appreciation shot through Stiles. Until the laughter continued on, and on and it was clear that Derek was laughing _at_ him. He frowned petulantly and threw a cushion at him. Of course the werewolf deflected it, still chuckling as he straightened.

"You're about as seductive as a rock," Stiles specified, shooting a glower at him.

"Really, Stiles?"

"The best you do is stare at a person until they stop talking, unless you're hitting on them for your own benefit and then you're all nice and smile-y and they're pretty much dropping their pants for you. And since when does "hi" even constitute a pick-up line?"

"It's all in how you say it," he replied with _that_ smile of his, and those wickedly amused eyes, and that mouth-

Stiles gave a scoff and rolled over, hiding his face under the blankets. Derek was not starting to grow on him. Not. At. All.

"Aw, something wrong?" he teased.

"Nothing, jerk," he mumbled.

"Jerk? How am I a jerk?" He poked Stiles' exposed ankle.

How was he not a jerk? "Do you really want me to list the reasons?"

"I let you talk to your dad, I let your friends stay, I'm teaching you how to fight, I gave you my clothes and I cooked breakfast for you… I don't see how that makes me a jerk unless you're still hung up on the kidnapping thing."

"I was all willing to go with you and you knocked me out! And if you really want you can have your stupid clothes back!"

Angrily, Stiles wiggled out of them, throwing them out from under the blanket.

Derek blinked, smiling wryly before turning to look at Stiles. "Well. I don't want the food back."

"Ha-ha, very funny," he drawled sarcastically.

Derek gets up, picking up the clothes, he walks to the kitchen and sits down at the table, dropping the clothes next to his chair. He dug in his jacket pocket, pulling out a small book as he sat down, flipping it open to a random page and he started reading. Stiles looked down the length of his body, grateful he still had the blanket as a blush rose up to his cheeks. The clothes were all the way in the kitchen… but there was no way he could let Derek think he won.

Steeling himself he got to his feet, securing the blanket around him. He wouldn't let the 'wolf think that he had won -there was no way that was going to happen. He walked steadily out to the kitchen, past Derek and past the discarded clothes, to the cupboards. He grabbed a glass and walked back over to the sink, stubbornly ignoring Derek as he filled it with water before walking back to the couch and sitting down.

He was not going to lose this battle, that was for sure.

* * *

_There will be payback. Haha, and things will start to pick up next chapter between them. I'm thinking about changing a few ideas I had established a little bit back._

_And wow, again, thank you __**so much**__ for all the feedback. I am awed and amazed. I hope you all enjoy where this goes. If you had any ideas on where you think it might go, or something you're kind of hoping to see happen, please let me know. I really like incorporating that into my writing :) _

_Happy Easter everyone!_


	4. Friday Afternoon

Twenty minutes later, boredom proved to be his downfall as he waddled over to Derek. He caught the older man glance up, a smirk still etched on his face

"Whatchya reading?" he asked, taking the book from Derek's hands.

He didn't fight to keep it in his grasp; which drastically reduced the possibility that it could have been erotica or something. Derek seemed so anti-technology that it wouldn't have surprised him. But instead, unshockingly, was a good old fashioned western. Right down to the small-town, the horse and the swashbuckling hero swooping in to save the day.

"Really?"

"What?" Derek asked, snatching his book back. He dog-eared the page and tucked it away into his jacket. "It's a good book."

"It's a _western_."

"Your point…?"

"Who even reads westerns?"

"I do."

Well obviously. "Seriously. Could you be more cliché?"

"Well since you're the expert, why don't you tell me?"

"You could be. If you started talking about how absence makes the heart grow fonder and you wanted to dance an Irish jig and to top it all off you started quoting from _Gone with the Wind_ then yeah."

"Should I?" Derek asked, evidently very amused.

"Should you what? I'd like to see you dance an Irish jig!"

"Then you should learn how," Derek replied, getting to his feet. He tweaked Stiles' nose, walking around him. "Never pass up a new experience Stiles, they enrich the mind."

"Who says things like that?"

"Rhett Butler," Derek replied, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I thought you would have gotten that reference."

Stiles paused. "Well… I have seen it. Yes. I remember more important lines, such as "no, I don't think I'll kiss you, although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."

With the way Derek was watching him, Stiles felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks and he prayed desperately for it to go away. He was not interested in the sourwolf. If only his emotions and his body could get the same message, things might be a little easier.

"Maybe that's your problem," Stiles said aloud, pulling his pants back on when Derek turned away to grab a dish or something -the blanket still draped over him. "Well, not a problem, that's not the right word. Like… maybe that's why you're so moody and withdrawn and _quiet_ all the time." _Shut up_ his brain yelled at him. His mouth didn't listen. "Maybe you just need some kisses and love from someone who -"

"If I need kisses, I hardly think I'm the only one," Derek drawled. "You chatter forever on and on, I don't see how you could ever make time for more than talking." And the words might have been a little harsh, but there were traces of amusement in the werewolf's eyes and Stiles felt himself relax at the same time he felt his ego stir at the jibe.

"At least I got a kiss within the last six months."

"Who says I didn't?"

Stiles opened his mouth and promptly closed it again.

"Exactly."

"You're never with people!" Stiles protested. "You are not a people person Derek. I don't see…"

"I go out to establishments and I meet respectable, normal people. I buy them drinks, I listen to their problems, I nod, I touch their hand, their thigh, their cheek and they're putty, Stiles. They want to forget. I… It's brief, it's quick, there are no emotions and no complications and it's over and that's that."

Stiles frowned. That was not the way things were supposed to work. Sex was about connecting with a person. Kisses and hugs too on a smaller level. "When was the last time you got a hug?" he demanded.

Derek blinked, the surprise followed by the calculation was more than satisfactory proof to Stiles as he walked over to the werewolf and threw his arms around the guy. Instantly, Derek stiffened.

"W-what are you-?"

"Shh," Stiles ordered.

"But -"

"_Shh_."

And so Derek fell silent, standing in the middle of his kitchen with a seventeen year old boy hugging him. Stiles didn't mind. He waited for Derek to relax. He would wait however long it took because this "I don't like people" spiel sent people to the hospital. Wolves were social creatures right? Well people were too. And if Derek kept this up, he would be starving himself of a very important life-fulfilling aspect. He just didn't know it yet. And Stiles was determined to teach him.

Stiles held on until he felt Derek relax -it was just marginally noticeable in his shoulders, almost as though he had exhaled and a small amount of tension drained away. His arms didn't twitch, didn't even shift to move and hug Stiles back -but that was okay. They could build up to it later. He dropped his arms and stepped back, flashing a grin up at Derek.

"I will physically maim you the next time you touch me," he stated, leveling a glare at Stiles.

"Nah, you like me too much. And you need me anyways, for this exercise." He wasn't sure if he wanted it over sooner or later. Or how much influence his likeability had over Derek. Considering that he was still alive and unharmed, he was going to take that as being a step in the right direction.

When Derek just shook his head and turned away, Stiles quickly grabbed his discarded shirt and pulled it back on. He heaved a great dramatic sigh, tossing the bundled up blanket back on the couch.

"You know," Derek said wickedly. "I don't recall saying you could wear those."

"You didn't say I couldn't either," he countered quickly. "Besides, I'm bored. There's nothing to do -can I go outside at least?

"Not alone. You might run or get lost."

Which was a thrilling option. Stiles shook his head, slipped on his shoes and a spare coat -now that he was wearing it, it was obviously Derek's -and shouldn't he have known that earlier? Derek pulled on his boots, following Stiles regardless of the lack of an invitation or permission. Well there were ways to deal with that -not that he wanted to be lost in the woods alone, there could always be a werewolf out there or something -Stiles snickered to himself.

Stiles kept his pace to match the werewolf's, noting that after a few minutes of silence and nature, how relaxed Derek was. He still looked like he could spring to action any second, but he was… calm. The snow was melting through to his socks and he knew he couldn't be out much longer so he took what could possibly be his only opportunity to do this. He bent down, pretending he had to adjust his shoes, making sure Derek wasn't paying him any attention as he started to make a snowball.

He ignored how the coldness bit into his skin as he hurled the bal straight into Derek's back. He didn't wait for the angry snarl as he laughed, leaping behind the nearest tree and hearing a nearby wet _thunk_ as the snowball splattered against the tree trunk. Stiles knelt carefully, grabbing another snowball before carefully peeking out from behind the tree only to see Derek standing right in front of him. He grabbed the older man's shirt, shoving the snowball against the exposed v of his skin and had the satisfaction of hearing his gasp as the snow melted. He darted back around to another tree, scooping up another snowball in his numb hand before darting out, looking for Derek.

The freezing cold blast of snow in the middle of his back told him he'd been hit and he threw blindly over his shoulder, grinning when he heard Derek curse under his breath. He quickly made another snowball, resting back against the tree as he listened for Derek's approach. Instead he was welcomed with a dump of snow on his head courtesy of a well-aimed snowball.

"Screw you Derek!" he yelled, laughing as he wiped the snow off with the back of his hand.

He darted out, quickly, scanning the foot prints before hiding behind another tree. He dropped his old snowball, quickly making another one, tossing to his left hand as he wiped his right down, trying to get some feeling back before he ran out. Derek was in the process of moving towards his hideout and Stiles cut across the side with a desperate lunge, before shoving the ball down the back of his shirt.

And the next thing Stiles knew, he was being tackled down into the snow and Derek was packing the snow over him as though he were laying on a beach in Florida or something. He yelped as the snow under him started to melt, soaking through his clothes just as the snow on top did the same.

"Surrender?" Derek asked, smirking.

"I s-s-surrender!" he yelped, struggling to sit up.

He broke out of his snow casing with Derek's help and was surprised to find that Derek kept his grip on his arm as he hauled him back towards the cabin.

"S-sh-should've dressed for the weather," he gasped out. "T-tell me next time wh-when I should."

"Let's get you warm first," he replied patiently as he tugged Stiles inside, pushing him towards the fireplace as he shut the door. "Clothes off," he added, walking into the bathroom.

Stiles numbly tugged his shirt off, and then fumbled with his jeans button just as Derek returned with a fresh, plush towel which he threw at Stiles. He gave up on getting his jeans off, latching onto the towel instead as the warmth from the fire soothed him. The dampness was far too annoying and he glanced over at Derek only to see him walking downstairs with Stiles' shirt -and when did he even take that…? He shucked his wet jeans off as quick as he could, wrapping the towel around his covered waist before trying to warm some life into his hands again.

When Derek came back up, he was shirtless and Stiles forced himself to look away and not ogle the perfect specimen of a muscular body. Derek grabbed his jeans and walked back downstairs.

"Cover up with the blanket, it'll help," he added before disappearing downstairs.

Stiles took Derek's advice, draping the blanket back around him before sitting in front of the fire. Derek came back upstairs, going to his room and grabbing another shirt. Plain, white, very boring and very Derek and he stood beside Stiles in front of the fireplace.

"That was fun!" Stiles informed with him with a grin.

"You could get frostbite."

"It's not even that cold out!" he responded, shocked.

Derek sighed, shifting slightly. "I suppose."

"It _was_ fun. _You_ had fun. Just admit it."

"No," Derek smirked, glancing at him.

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You have to actually have something around here to do, don't you?"

"I don't think so…"

"How do you not know what you have around here? It's not very big."

Derek frowned thoughtfully. He paused, "Well… this… this is my first time out here since…"

"Oh," Stiles supplied helpfully. He knew what Derek meant -the first time since the fire. So this _was_ a family cabin. He looked at the fireplace, turning back to look at Derek who's eyes were on the fire.

He shrugged. "There could be something that…Laura or I missed."

"I can snoop?"

Derek nodded, his eyes still on the fire. Ten minutes later, Stiles was still searching through the drawers and closets when Derek called up indistinctly. He pulled away from the spare room closet, heading towards the basement where he met Derek who was coming up with a basket of laundry. He handed over Stiles' shirt and jeans, continuing onto his room. Stiles went back to the spare room, quickly changing into his warm clothes, glad to not be waddling around in a towel and blanket again.

Twenty minutes later he came back, holding a dust covered game of Monopoly he had founded tucked back in a closet. Monopoly was way better than anything he had expected. He took the lid off carefully, sitting down, and spreading the map out.

"Found something," he added, glancing at Derek. "You mind playing?"

Derek was quiet for a moment, and Stiles wondered how many old memories he had just unburied and thrown out in front of him. Slowly, Derek sat down across from Stiles and took the car piece. He smiled a little bitterly and glanced at Stiles. He nodded and Stiles flashed him a grin, looking through the old manual before doling out the cash. Derek watched him closely.

"Been awhile since you played?" Stiles asked as he took the dog piece with a cheeky grin.

"Years," Derek said honestly.

Stiles read the rules out to him, just to be clear, laying the rule sheet between the two of them before he rolled the dice. They played the entire game away, an intense sort of energy settling over them, interrupted by the odd laugh or two from Stiles' until their energy picked back up again. Within three hours Derek was dominating the board, several hotels placed and taking ownership of property after property. Stiles would maintain that it was based solely on luck -that Derek never once landed on his property while he was trapped every single time between Derek's money-grabbing hotels until he was bankrupt. The silver car rolled on down prettily to it's last stop, Derek flashing an arrogant smirk over at Stiles.

"Well. You have no money left. Just admit your defeat."

"No way!" Stiles protested. "It isn't over until I'm bankrupt."

"You have five dollars left."

"You could still land on one of my pieces."

"I own the next five spaces," Derek retorted.

"No," Stiles said determinedly as he rolled again. He could have an amazing comeback or something. He flinched. Five.

Almost painedly, he pushed his little puppy over to the purple space with the foreboding three-tier hotel.

"Bank-rupt," Derek popped the p, boredly holding his hand out.

Stiles paused, passing the five to Derek's hand. "Can I strip for cash?"

* * *

_XD so how many times did Stiles touch Derek after his threat? _

_Special thanks to Puckurt for where this chapter is heading. If I could PM you, I would thank you for this idea. It's so perfect. I hope you like where it goes... ;)_

___Well... I missed an important detail hence the editing of this chapter. Previously, Stiles was only wearing a towel and a blanket. He's now fully dressed. ^_^; _

_And thanks to all of you for the faves and the follows and the reviews! :)_


	5. And I'm Feeling Good

_Thanks so much for all the feedback! I really love it. And I hope this chapter... pleases you all. Haha. I would hate to cut off the end into an author's note this time around, so I've moved it up here so as to be less distracting._ ) _Enjoy. _

_And please, review. If there's anything you want to see happen, or some scene you think will fit -I want to know what you guys think. :) _

* * *

Derek smirked, "I think that's a personal decision…"

Stiles glared at him. "For Monopoly money."

"Personally… I think doing it for cash would get you further."

"Oh! You know what I meant!" he huffed. "I'm not giving up until I beat you!"

"So I just give you what I think you've earned?" Derek asked, clearly amused.

"Something like that," Stiles shot back. "Deal?"

"Alright, alright. Strip away if it means that much to you." He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Stiles took a steadying breath, thinking back to all the movies he had seen. He slowly pulled his shirt up and off, not really soaking up the moment, his nerves and the amusement in Derek's eyes fueling him to yank the material off quicker than he would have done. Sitting shirtless across from an equally shirtless Derek only made things more daunting.

Wordlessly Derek handed over a one hundred dollar bill from the bank and Stiles grinned. If this was all stripping was about -he was definitely the best stripper anyone had ever seen. The game picked up after that, Stiles relaxing despite his shirtless state and he found that the soft crackling fire was soothing to his ears and his body -despite the lack of material, he was quite comfortable.

The hundred dollars he earned didn't last him long. Two turns later and Stiles was getting back to his feet, leaning back against the couch as he bobbed his head along to an imaginary jazz beat, slowly sliding each sock down and off. Derek tossed him two fifties, and Stiles caught him shaking his head. Well they hadn't even gotten to the best part… He would so win this. A few more turns and everything could turn in his favor.

"Booyah!" he yelled out in delight when his puppy landed on the space, earning him the rewards that had been pooling all game.

Eight turns later and another hour gone, Stiles was grudgingly getting back to his feet. Derek was a lot poorer than he had been, their hotels were about even but if Stiles started mortgaging them off, he would be handing the game over to Derek. He rose to the imaginary jazzy beat that flickered to his mind, wiggling his hips as he straightened. He slowly undid his pants, feeling his face flame up, he ignored it as he swayed his hips seductively to the music. Derek was watching him, too transfixed to look away and Stiles knew he had the game in his pocket. Slowly he worked his jeans down past one hip, smiling triumphantly despite himself as he kept up with the beat. He dragged the next movement out as he slid his pants down lower -

"Take it all!" Derek exclaimed, looking away. "Take it all; please stop."

Stiles grinned, happily collecting up Derek's money and adding it to his own. His stripping skills were by far superior and so breathtaking, that even the mighty Derek Hale couldn't control his desires. Just what that meant exactly, Stiles wasn't sure. He stopped counting his money to pull his pants back up more comfortably, chancing a glance at the older man.

He was kneeling over, facing away from Stiles, shaking his head. He swore he could see his mouth moving and after a moment he got the distinct impression he was repeating "Thank God". Irritation bubbled up.

"Derek?"

"Y-yes?"

"This doesn't feel like a win," he told him suspiciously.

"Oh it is. It's definitely a win. You won."

"Ha! So my stripping skills are the most awesome thing you've ever seen, aren't they?"

Derek burst out laughing. "No! Don't ever do it again. Don't drop out of school and keep in your clothes. Stay."

Stiles scowled at him darkly. "I won this round Derek Hale. You can make dinner, if you're gonna be like that."

Derek nodded, swallowing his chuckles back as he walked into the kitchen. Stiles shot a glare at his back when he wasn't looking. He was still the winner. Superb or horrific stripping skills aside -he was the clear winner. He mocked Derek under his breath as he put the money and the pieces away.

"I'd like to see you do better," he muttered.

By the time Stiles had packed the game away and tucked it back above the closet stand, Derek had finished cooking dinner. A part of him was expecting it would consist of steak and vegetables again, but he could honestly say he was surprised when he saw the tortillas ready to be made. The hamburger was lightly seasoned and there was neatly sliced lettuce, tomatoes and cheese waiting to be selected. There was sour cream and salsa sitting on the side and Stiles double-checked the due dates before looking over to Derek.

Either the man had been planning on kidnapping Stiles and picked out a handful of meals he could feed him, or he went out camping here a _lot_. Stiles was personally more fond of the first choice as he put together his tortilla, watching Derek's skills critically. Maybe Stiles wasn't the best stripper, but at least he could make a tortilla that would stay put together. With a smirk, he ignored the way Derek folded his together that required him to keep both hands on it or it would fall apart. Stiles layered lettuce, cheese and tomato on his tortilla with a side of salsa before sitting down to eat.

A few tortillas later, and they were off doing dishes, Stiles elbowing Derek out of the way. Last time he had been so insistent on doing them himself. He heard the exasperated sigh from the older man as he set about washing the dishes triumphantly. Stiles liked to believe that he had reclaimed some of his dignity after the stripping display with that move. It couldn't have been _that_ bad anyways. And at least it was only Derek around… not anyone else… and it wasn't like Derek was chatty enough that he would go around telling everyone anyway.

Stiles frowned at the soapy water. He kind of missed them. Scott was probably going out of his mind with worry. At least Danny knew he was okay, he might try to talk Scott out of doing anything stupid. His father knew he was okay too, at least there was that but he highly suspected that by the time he got back at this point that his father would be putting him on lock down with a guard at the door at all times considering the whole Gerard incident not long ago.

"You know, you can't keep me here indefinitely," he said, scrubbing the salsa stain from the plate. "I still have to go to school. You're lucky I've only missed one day of class or my dad would have your ass back in jail."

"Only if he found out it was me," Derek said amusedly, taking the dry dishes and putting them away.

Stiles reached over to try and get Derek to move out of his way, but the werewolf merely batted his hand aside and continued what he was doing.

"If school matters that much to you, I can take you back," Derek added reluctantly. "I know I was never half as interested as you seem to be."

Stiles laughed. "No, it's my dad who's interested in it. But I mean it isn't like it's not important or anything, you know? Need an education to get somewhere in life."

Stiles glanced at Derek from the corner of his eye, catching the uneasy shrug of the older man.

"I mean it doesn't look like Scott's going to make it that far, but hey, it could happen. I hope it happens. His mom wouldn't let him fail out or drop-out and neither would I and I'm sure if things got that bad, Allison would start to pitch in -and Scott can't possibly ignore her or anything…"

"What will you do when you graduate?" Derek asked, piercing him with a curious, intense look.

"I-I don't know?" Stiles said offhandedly.

He could see everyone else so clearly in their careers: Danny as a computer genius; Lydia as a world-renowned chemist; Scott as an assistant in a veterinary clinic; Jackson as some small-time sports player; and Allison, Allison would been a kindergarten teacher. Stiles didn't know where he would fit in there. Lydia would get out of Beacon Hills and farther away than anyone else might manage. Scott and Allison would probably never leave here -this was home to them.

Was it home to Stiles too, he wondered? Yes, it was, so long as his father was still here and his friends. Of course. But he could see no definitive place in this town for him. No career or anything. He was forever a hyperactive teenager to the farthest that he could imagine. He could pretend to be a number of things, see himself in those positions but never with the same certainty as how he saw his friends.

"What do you even do?" Stiles asked as he drained the sink. "Other than hang around here and creep people out?"

"I used to work in a restaurant, Laura was part of it. It was just.. a temporary thing," he said evasively.

And Stiles grinned, because he could see that. Derek as the angry, unsociable, sullen cook in a little restaurant some place, bossing everyone around. Probably everyone but his sister, she was probably in a management position or something which gave her enough power to boss _him_ around instead. Maybe they had been in New York or some other big city, miles and miles away from this little town where their family had been murdered and their home burned down.

"Did you have something more permanent in mind?" Stiles asked, as he dried off his hands.

"Yes…" Derek murmured and Stiles recognized the pain in his voice and the far-away look in his eyes as he remembered something.

So he did the only thing he could think of. "It's your turn to strip!" he announced.

Comfort was one thing. Comforting Derek Hale was another entirely, and with his tense posture and that look in his eyes, the last thing Hale wanted was comfort. But distraction was something Stiles could manage. Sometimes it was the best thing. If Derek was going to cry about it later and analyze his feelings or go running off into the woods, howling at the moon, then he would want to do it alone. Stiles couldn't name how many times he had wanted to be alone and how people were near -and he couldn't even name how many times he was alone when he wanted people around. Sometimes for how distracting they could be, sometimes just because they were there.

"Excuse me?" Derek said blandly, his eyes on Stiles, wide with shock, both brows raised.

"If you're the master of judging stripping, you show me where I went wrong and how to do it right," he demanded.

Derek snorted, shaking his head. "Where didn't you go wrong?"

Stiles just looked at him blankly.

"You went wrong everywhere," Derek added. "And why do you want to learn how to strip?"

"So next time I don't humiliate myself," he replied.

Derek hid a smile. "No plans on being a stripper then?"

"No!"

He may not know what he wanted to be, but it definitely wasn't that. Although he might make substantial money, it was neither a glorious occupation and it also came with a lot of dangers. But stripping was useful when trying to seduce someone or attempting to be sexy and if his attempt was even half as hilarious as Derek seemed to think, then Mr. I-Know-Everything could teach him himself.

Derek seemed to sigh, shaking his head. "If anyone hears about this, I am so going to rip your head off -with my _teeth_." He bared his pearly whites for emphasis as he walked around the kitchen table, shaking his head. He took a moment to take his socks off, stretching slightly as he took his stance. It looked more like he was getting ready for battle than anything else.

"So here's what your version of stripping looked like…"

Derek practically ripped the shirt from his head, a wicked grin on his face even as he swayed his hips together in small clumsy movements that looked more like a chicken waddle -and he didn't even make it any further because he was laughing at the memory of Stiles' attempt. He felt shame flicker to life, infusing his cheeks with a red blush.

Derek pulled his shirt back on, flashing a grin at Stiles. Personally, Stiles preferred the image he had going on in his mind of how epic he had been. It was a good image, complete with abs and a seductive/sultry jazz song in the background. It also had well timed, drawn out movements that matched the big jazzy beats. His stripping looked a lot more like that to him -the image of a drunk man at a wedding, flailing and stripping away to the chicken dance came to mind for how horrendous his own attempt had been.

On the bright side, he could only get better.

On an even brighter side, now it was Derek's turn to actually strip. Not just tease with yanking his shirt off -he'd seen the man half naked quite a bit by now. Derek pulled his shirt back on, glancing at Stiles with his usual smirk -but somehow it seemed entirely different from any other one that Derek had given him before. Maybe it was his eyes? They were lit up with light, dancing with humor and there was… something hidden there that Stiles couldn't put a name on.

Slowly, Derek slid half of his shirt up, over his abs and up to his pectorals. He looked over at Stiles, directly making eye contact before slowly, so, so slowly pulling his shirt off. And then it was the way his hands lingered at his jeans, his hips gyrating to a beat only Derek could hear -one that was quickly becoming palpable to Stiles. With an abruptly swift move, Derek undid the zipper, and started to edge his pants down. Suddenly, Stiles was painfully -_painfully- _aware of just how hot it was in the little cabin, just how close Derek was to him and just how few clothes the werewolf would be wearing in a few delicious seconds.

Stiles swallowed hard, his eyes traveling up the exposed torso of the werewolf, to the way Derek was grinning, to the smugness in his eyes as he worked his pants down lower, lower…the gray of his underwear peeking through, the teasing dark curls of pubic hair standing out in contrast and then -

Derek stopped, his jeans no lower than his hips. "You get the idea?" he asked, amusement in his eyes.

Stiles nodded, trying to fight his blush back, turning away quickly so he could pretend that he wasn't staring or ogling the man and then his legs quickly led him to the privacy of a bathroom. Which, considering the hearing of a werewolf, was suddenly not-so-private at all… Being a teenager had to be the universe's almighty curse on all teenage boys, Stiles thought to himself, biting his lip as he turned the tap on. It was a really cruel joke and sometime when the world wasn't upside down on it's head, Stiles might understand it but for now he needed to find some solution that wouldn't result in him walking out of the bathroom and into an alpha who had just overheard him jacking off. No. Nope.


	6. Rip Your Throat Out With My Teeth

The bad side was definitely that Stiles could think of no way out of this situation that wouldn't result in Derek _knowing_ and he didn't want that. He stared at his reflection, at his obviously dilated eyes, at the bright flush of his cheeks and he resisted the strong urge to slam his head against the sink and hope that it would go away. But it wouldn't. His body had other ideas, other very _definite_ ideas.

It wasn't as though this was the first time he had this reaction to a man. He knew he was bi, had known for about a year, at least that he'd been sure that he was also attracted to men. If he had any doubts left, they were well and truly gone now.

Stiles shifted, splashing the ice cold water onto his face. Now was so not the time for this. He was obviously very attracted to Derek, physically. But he knew practically nothing about him. Lust was one thing. In this case, a very inconvenient problem because he was alone in the woods with the man. Which, could have been a good thing, except for the fact that Derek was a werewolf and he wouldn't be getting any… _relief_ any time soon. That and this was Derek-Rip-Your-Throat-Out-With-My-Teeth-Hale, Derek who could smile, laugh and had fifty thousand different frowny faces and thirty-three different glares each of which meant something different -and Stiles was by no means an expert in the Derek code.

This was Derek whose ex-girlfriend had betrayed him and killed his family and left him with a lot of baggage and a little emotionally stunted. And that wasn't fair to say, because Stiles couldn't fault him for that. With a groan, he pulled back from the cold water. His hair was wet and clinging to his face, but his pupils were slowly contracting again and his cheeks were bright red with the cold of the water.

He turned the tap off, exhaling softly before towel drying his hair. Maybe he would get lucky and Derek wouldn't have noticed anything -but then he was a werewolf. He probably smelled the arousal. Stiles closed his eyes tightly. Well… that wasn't going to make things awkward, now was it? He had lived through some pretty humiliating things in his life, a lot of them, actually. Plenty. But this… this was going to be unavoidable. Like two trains destined to crash; the lusty Stiles and the resentful Derek and it wouldn't end very pretty. It would probably end bloody and with Stiles missing a throat -nah, the Sourwolf wouldn't be that drastic. And as for him not to kill him? Well… his body would still be scented of him, right? So technically that probably wouldn't get in the way of Derek stopping himself from killing him.

Well there was no time like the present. Doing himself a once over, he nodded and walked out of the bathroom. Derek was standing in the living room, putting the fire in the fireplace out. He was unfortunately -or was it fortunately clothed again -and stop that train of thought right there, Stiles commanded his brain as he scurried to the guest room and shut the door tightly behind him. He really didn't want Derek killing him for what he couldn't help -honestly, the man was built like an Adonis.

Stiles crawled into the bed, curling up under the blankets before shucking his jeans and shirt off. He seriously contemplated relieving that moment from minutes ago, but he didn't want an angry alpha werewolf breaking down the door. It took a very long time before sleep claimed him, sending him off into a restless sleep.

When he woke up, it was to find that he was freezing. It was still pitch black outside and he pulled his blankets closer to his body, wiggling around to try and get some heat but there was nothing. He waited as long as he dared, until his toes were so cold he couldn't stand to touch them to his flesh because it was almost painfully cold. He gathered his blankets around him, tiptoeing out of his room. He stumbled, almost crashing into the door, he caught himself, opened the door and hurried across the slippery, hazardous wooden floors to Derek's room. He almost fell three more times, tripping over the kitchen chair in his haste before stumbling in to Derek's room and throwing himself onto the bed. He dove under the blankets and shamelessly cuddled up to the older man, pressing close carelessly. It was too cold -far, far too cold and too early for any of this to matter.

Derek shifted with a disgruntled sort of grunt/moan, and Stiles latched onto the werewolf. His toes were so, so cold. He waited a second, listening to the deep regular breaths before he slowly poked Derek's exposed calf with one toe. Derek inhaled sharply, frowning in his sleep and Stiles groggily clung on as he put his feet onto the furnace that was Derek Hale. Within seconds he was passed out once more.

He was barely conscious, still functioning in the mostly asleep haze, moving closer to the source of warmth, a sleepy groan working its way from deep within his throat. He pressed closer, shifting his hips, finding that perfect rhythm. It was a mark of how deeply asleep he was, that his brain didn't catch up with his body until he heard the other man's low groan. And then he was trying to pull away, to get away, to give Derek some space and to try and not feel like he had been raping the man in his sleep -but Derek's arms were tight around him, and his own hips were moving in such a delicious way that Stiles gave up as abruptly as he'd tried to start moving away.

He bucked against Derek, his face buried against the man's well muscled shoulder as he felt a familiar tightening, his body tensing up as he continued to move against Derek's slow moving hips until he was hit with a blast of ecstasy. He groaned deeply, suddenly overwhelmed with the sensations -totally alien and yet so similar and so much more heightened. He exhaled heavily, blinking blearily, suddenly acutely aware of Derek growling low in his throat as he ground his lower body against Stiles'.

He was mewling lowly, half-hard and breathing heavy by the time that Derek was rocking his hips erratically against his own until their briefs were heavy and sticky and the breath was stolen from their lungs with hot breaths. Stiles slowly became aware of how warm he was, pressed right up against Derek -but he still had his arms limply around the other man and he could feel Derek's arms around him with their sweaty limbs entangled.

And suddenly, the realization struck Stiles of what had just passed between them and that this was way more than he had ever bargained for and a snarl of fear curled around him. Prior to this morning, he could say that the most experience he had ever had, was one kiss years ago and masturbating to porn. Now he had just… with _Derek_ of all people. Not that it was a bad thing -he was clearly attracted to the werewolf and maybe, just maybe, the werewolf was attracted to him. But then that would clearly depend on who started this humping fest so early in the morning, because the light was spilling through the windows and Stiles looked at his-his bedmate? timidly, noticing how his pupils were contracting and his breathing was evening out and his brows were drawing together in a frown.

"Stiles?" he asked, his voice rough with his post-orgasm state. "When the hell did you get in my bed?"

"L-last night?" he chanced, clearing his throat, blushing, and looking away from the intense stare of the alpha werewolf.

"Why?"

"I-I was cold," he whimpered, meekly, ducking his head, moving away from the werewolf- suddenly too close and too hot.

"…and that led to this?"

"Apparently," Stiles snapped, getting out of the bed, feeling the familiar panic start to creep in.

What was Derek going to do? He could skewer him and eat him alive -how did this even happen? This was -was earth shattering, both in the categorizing of the experience and the fact that it had happened at all. Where did that leave Derek? Holy hell where did that leave him? Where did it leave the both of them? Their relationship was supposed to cut and dry and obvious. Derek threatened Stiles, Stiles used his natural wit and charm to worm his way into Derek's heart. Yesterday there had been some worming and some appreciation and arousal and today -how had yesterday gone from fighting off an urge to jack off to thoughts of Derek to being mostly naked and they had just-just done whatever that was. And Stiles was totally not freaking out about this because hey, it was a very handsome hard to resist Alpha and clearly Stiles' sexiness despite that humiliating strip dance hadn't hindered that effect he had on people. But my god, it was Derek and the way he was sitting there and boring a hole into Stiles' head with that intense stare was enough to make him want to wilt and cower and proclaim apologies.

"Stiles," Derek said firmly.

"What?!" he shouted, leaping to his feet, whirling to face Derek panickedly.

"Stiles, it's okay," Derek said, his tone softening and gentling. "I'm not- I'm not mad."

"How are you not mad?! This is -is totally something to be mad about!" he raved, waving his arms in emphasis.

Derek blushed faintly, "Stiles, this isn't the first time for me. And I, well I don't think it was intentional…"

"It wasn't!" he proclaimed, more loudly than necessary, feeling some of the panic recede.

He _had_ only wanted to get warm, to crawl into bed with Derek and stay warm -not to wake up unsure of who had molested who and feeling both elated and crushed. Because that was not how he had ever visualized any sexual encounter he had going. Usually there was… there were supposed to be feelings! There was supposed to be a clear, happy fond recollection of what had happened not some hazy sleep-addled one.

"I'm sorry."

The low gruff voice surprised him beyond words and Stiles found himself retreating from the room and straight to the bathroom for an immediate shower. What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no idea. What did this even mean? He could feel his heart racing as he got under the cool stream of water. Sure Derek was hot, sure he had a great ass and there was no reason to not fantasize about him. Except maybe for the emotionally stunted thing, that was a strike against him. On the plus side, he had a good sense of humor although maybe it was a little bit twisted. And he had the whole anger thing… another strike against him. He was an accused murderer, another strike…

He had a great smile, when he smiled. And his laugh. And his voice and that mouth and there was nothing physical about him that was remotely unpleasant. His personality wasn't that bad, for as quiet and angry he could be. Despite his anger issues, he hadn't killed anyone and considering that he was a werewolf and a relatively recent alpha werewolf, perhaps that could be considered as a really big bonus?

And he wasn't totally straight. He had handled their sexual encounter this morning quite well, considering everything, as though it hadn't even fazed him in the slightest. So what the hell did it all mean?

A small part of Stiles felt like had lost something that he couldn't get back. It wasn't his virginity, at least not in the technical sense. He exhaled heavily, turning the water on hotter. Okay, so he liked Derek. That was something he could come to terms with. And he had been getting a little hot and heavy with the guy -at least he knew him. That was a pro, a very good pro. Derek _had not_ murdered or maimed him in any way -another good sign.

Stiles frowned. What was he going to do about all of this, exactly? He liked him, he was attracted to him. He liked seeing Derek smile, liked making him laugh even more… He was pretty well screwed, all things considered. He finished washing, making sure he was clean of sweat and semen before throwing a towel around his waist and walking out, back to Derek's bedroom where he had just finished putting on jeans before he bravely and impulsively kissed the corner of his mouth.

He pulled back, watching worriedly as Derek frowned -one of his unreadable frowns. He watched the way his brows tightened, the way that his eyes moved in an obvious sign of how he was considering and calculating and Stiles let out a shaky breath that he wasn't aware he had been holding.

"If I watch closely, I can seeing you failing to comprehend everything." And, in what could probably be considered a suicidal impulse, Stiles leaned back in and kissed the terrifying Derek Hale. And the bastard didn't even kiss him back, in fact, he tensed up and Stiles withdrew in horror and fear, panic curling around his stomach as he backed up. "Ohgod! Pleasedontkillme!" he whimpered.

He was a puny human -Derek was the mighty alpha. This was Derek-Rip-Your-Throat-Out-With-My-Teeth-Hale. And this was who he had a crush on, who he had just kissed…obviously against his wishes. He was going to die now. He knew it. There was no recovering from this moment, this monumental misunderstanding.

* * *

_Well I'm really nervous, about this chapter. I hope you guys like it. For those of you who haven't stalked my profile or anything, this is the first time I have written fanfiction like this. _

_And one really big question for all of you out there:_

_Where do you want this fic to go? I can add and layer and work plot through the relationship of Derek, or I can write a few more days the way this is going and end it? I would really prefer to add plot, as Stiles and Derek work towards a relationship but I don't want to lose anyone..._

_Thanks for all the feedback!_


	7. Interruptions

And he attempted to run for the door but the iron grip on his arm stopped him dead in his tracks until he was too terrified to move and Derek was slowly pulling him closer until he couldn't ignore the other man. Much as he would have liked to. And then Derek was still moving closer and Stiles was too stunned to pay it much attention as the werewolf breached that safe, comfortable, physical bubble of personal space until his mouth was on Stiles'.

It wasn't what Stiles was expecting after everything that had just happened -there was no heat and passion, instead it was a chaste kiss -almost fragile in how gentle it was. Derek pulled back slowly, his body slightly bowed over Stiles', leaving the teenager trapped between the solid six feet of muscle and the wall behind him. He swallowed tightly, looking into Derek's grey-green eyes because there was no where else to look. He could feel his heart racing -Derek probably could do. The other man gently set his hand over Stiles' chest, smiling knowingly.

"I don't have any reason that I know of to kill you," he replied, pulling back slightly.

"No reasons that you don't know of either," Stiles laughed awkwardly. "Seriously."

Derek gave a sort of half-smile, something hidden away in his eyes as he kissed Stiles' cheek in reply of some sort.

"Words, Derek," Stiles supplied. "Use your words?"

"Silence is more appropriate," he rumbled out. "You would do well to learn that."

"And you could do with learning to speak," Stiles retorted, feeling the tension as it dropped.

"I know how to speak," he retorted, scowling -it wasn't one of his usual scowls though, this one seemed a bit less…scowly.

"Good. So, uh, tell me what this all means, exactly?" He gestured between the two of them.

Derek smirked. "I thought it was obvious. We share a mutual attraction and enjoyment of the other's company."

Stiles narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Sourwolf. 'Enjoyment of the other's company'? Really? Was that was this was? But it was better than leaving it at mutual attraction, he supposed, exhaling softly.

"Yeah, yeah that's exactly what it means," he replied dryly.

And then Derek was tugging him back to the bed and Stiles was tripping over his feet as he felt his face burn with the million and one possibilities flashing through it. Derek snorted softly, chuckling, he fell back onto the bed, Stiles falling to lay beside him. Before he had a chance to contemplate those million and one things in any sort of detail, Derek's mouth was back on his and there was less chaste and more tongue and Stiles was shamelessly trying to get closer to the older man. He inched his hips closer uncertainly, his hand on Derek's side, feeling every breath he took.

Derek ended Stiles' hesitation when he pressed close to the teenager, hooking his leg over his waist so they were pressed fully together, separated by nothing but the thin material of their underwear. Derek pulled back, his lips inches from Stiles as he kissed down to his jaw.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and husky and oddly hesitant.

"Y-yeah," Stiles gasped out, feeling Derek's hips move against him. "I me-mean other than the whole statutory rape piece, t-totally-"

Derek pressed his lips back over Stiles' with a low growl, grinding against him and whatever thoughts his mind had been processing before were completely blown out of his mind with one roll of Derek's hips. As far as he was aware, all he could think of and feel was _Derek_. And it was amazing. He moaned and the other man swallowed it down, flicking his tongue around the inside of Stiles' mouth as his hips moved more erratically and persistently against Stiles'.

A pleasant blurring wave of euphoria washed over him, leaving him gasping and arching closer to Derek. When he had enough vision to actually see and focus on anything, he could feel Derek absently nuzzling at his neck, out of breath and relaxed.

Maybe being a teenager _wasn't_ the world's biggest curse, after all, Stiles thought dazedly. However there were certainly downsides to this, such as the fact that he was going to have to leave the bed -and the sexy werewolf- behind in order to get clean. But that wouldn't be until the glow faded, he realized, shuddering pleasantly and leaning into Derek's touch.

Maybe Derek was more of a touchy person, than a communicative one?

"What are we going to do?" he asked quietly, glancing at his… friend.

"Mm?" Derek looked up at him, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"Wh-when we get back?" He really didn't want to think of this, he wasn't even sure if he should be asking about this because now was probably not the best time, at all in fact. "You can't exactly show up at my house and introduce yourself to my dad as the man that's-that's…" Stiles gestured, unable to articulate what exactly they were. Oh, right "people who enjoyed the other's company". "You're like five years older than me, Derek and you've got a-a rep sheet and my dad -well he's got a gun and he's got access to your files."

"I know," he sighed.

"So-so what does this mean exactly?" he demanded cautiously. "Are we… are we dating? Because I'm definitely available and judging by uh what's happened, I think it's a safe guess that you're pretty single, too, right?" He laughed awkwardly. "I mean I would like to date… I've never dated anyone before, I've never done any of this before!"

"Stiles," Derek said firmly, in that cutting tone that sliced through Stiles' thoughts so effectively. "I'm… I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend." The words came haltingly, but no less honestly. He felt Derek sigh.

"That doesn't matter," he protested quietly, looking at the werewolf.

"It does," he refuted. "It'll matter a lot. I'll just… I'll hurt you. If I manage to not screw your emotions in a three-sixty, I could fall asleep next to you and wake up having killed you in my sleep Stiles!"

And somehow that line didn't sound nearly as cliché as he had been expecting it to be. He cringed at the visualization.

"You could lose some muscle buddy, it wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't kill me?" Derek supplied, resting his weight on his elbow so he could make unabashed eye contact.

"Yeah…" Derek didn't even need to say anything to that. "This… this is hurting me, right now," he told him, directing his gaze towards the ceiling at the last minute.

"Stiles, I-"

But they wouldn't have a chance to finish this conversation anytime soon, Stiles realized as Derek leapt out of the bed, throwing the sheets over Stiles. And then there was a loud crash and the wind was howling, carrying voices and snarls and suddenly Scott and Isaac were standing in their doorway, Erica and Boyd looming behind them. Stiles watched in horror as Scott wrinkled his nose, quickly covering it and backing up; Erica giggled a little, her eyes wide as she stood up higher, probably trying to get a better view; Isaac covered his mouth with his hand, turning away -at least he had the decency to look ashamed! and Boyd simply backed away.

"Stiles!" Scott asked, alarmed. "Stiles wh-what… and Derek… you're supposed to be in Canada! And it-it reeks in here…"

At least Scott didn't ask why. He probably had a very good idea _why_ because it was pretty obvious in the fact that Derek was sitting there practically naked in just his briefs which were _very _obviously stained and the whole room kind of smelled of a mixture of arousal and perspiration.

"Get out," Derek growled, his eyes flashing.

"This is great!" Erica laughed, darting away from the room nonetheless. "Wow, I-I never would have guessed!"

"Shut up," Isaac supplied, but there only the veneer of harshness, he was as passive as ever.

Stiles looked over at Derek as the older man shut the bedroom door. He threw on his pants, glancing at Stiles and offering what had to be a reassuring smile.

"You can shower first, I have some pack business to deal with."

And just like that, as though nothing had even happened between them, Derek walked out of the room to deal with his pack. Bad boyfriend material? Definitely. Stiles got to his feet, feeling pinpricks of tears in his eyes before resolutely blinking them away as he grabbed some clothes randomly pulling on a shirt and pants, blindly walking out and to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he undressed again. He didn't really want to be ogled by anyone right now, he felt kind of gross.

But not quite used. If he had felt used, that might have made things a little easier, he thought to himself, turning the shower on. He could have been angry at Derek. He could have been heartbroken but this had been a very bizarre… three days? It was hard to keep track of time when he didn't have an electronic at hand listing the date. Honestly. It felt like… It felt a whole lot longer either way.

Derek was not good boyfriend material. It didn't stop Stiles from wishing that he was, from willing the man to try. Because what had just happened there had mattered to Stiles and he was almost sure that to some extent it had mattered to Derek. It had _better_ have been something more than a-a morning whatever-this-was.

Sullenly, he glowered at his reflection as he realized that Scott and the others had also prevented any future repeats of this from occurring again. At least from a morning like this morning. There… there was no way things were just going to go back to normal after this. They couldn't, could they? On the other hand, it could be better if things ended like this. Before anything serious happened. Before Stiles was in love with a man at least five years older, before they were running out to the cabin in order to hook-up, before his father ever found out, before their feelings ever got truly _involved_.

Maybe that was the way Derek liked it? To be… cut and dry. Impersonal. Or as impersonal as he could make it. But they knew each other. Knew their names. Stiles had saved his freaking life! It wasn't impersonal. Not entirely and certainly not for him. And _god_ why did he have to be cursed with these people? Lydia and Derek.

It wouldn't be long until word got out. He didn't trust Erica further than he could throw her, as soon as it was to her advantage of blackmailing him into whatever Derek wanted -though Derek could probably just ask him and he'd roll over. Or on principle, he wouldn't budge. In which case, it _would_ be Erica and she would not hesitate to blackmail him. She could tell everyone. He didn't care if people knew he was bisexual, or if people knew Derek was. He would care because he wasn't sure that he _wanted_ everyone to know, about either him or Derek and certainly about the two of them together until he had this stuff figured out. If it meant something… but then again, if it hadn't…

With a glare, he squirted more soap than was strictly necessary into his hand, resisting the urge to yell or punch something or cry. He wasn't sure which he wanted to do more, as he scrubbed his body clean.

Stiles had just stepped out of the bathroom when Derek was handing him his cell phone, his expression somewhere between irritated and apologetic.

"It hasn't stopped ringing since I put the battery back in," he added.

Stiles slid it open, skimming through the first thirty messages -all of them from Scott. Not surprising. The next five were from his father, growing increasingly more worried and urgent as he looked through them, feeling a pang of guilt. There were two from Danny, surprisingly. He opened those ones.

Danny: _Sorry Stiles. I don't know how, but Isaac knows and they're on their way out. I didn't say a word about you being with Derek._

Danny: _Just wanted to say sorry again. I hope everything works out_.

Stiles leaned back, ignoring Derek as he dialed his father's number. First priority was reminding his father that he was alive and fine and he didn't need to send out a search party. The second issue would be to come up with some sort of rational explanation for why he had disappeared; and at this moment, nothing was coming to mind. He exhaled nervously, waiting for his father to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Dad! Hi! I'm alive and I'll be back home tonight."

"Stiles!" he growled and Stiles could picture him, the battle between frustration and relief fighting for dominance. "You can't just-just!"

"I know," he replied quietly, solemnly. If there had been any other way... "We'll talk tonight." A conversation that would undoubtedly be unpleasant for Stiles and result in his imminent lock-down status.

* * *

_Wooot! Plot it is! So happy to hear from you guys, as always. Thanks so much for all this feedback. It's my first time writing a serious M story and my first time in this fandom. Just... wow. :)_

_I will let you know this: I like drama and I like plot. Haha. :D_

_...I really should just give myself an extra twenty-four hours before I say when I'll get something up. Anyways, about a day later than I intended, here is the next chapter. _


	8. Confliction

"So… you and Derek huh?" Scott asked, once they were sitting in Stiles' familiar Jeep. He had "borrowed" it, helping make things look a lot more like a prank than someone having kidnapped him.

Stiles really figured that it wouldn't help with the situation between him and his father. He glanced over at his best friend, noticing the way he sat just a little more tensely, his grip on the steering wheel firm and his eyes on the road and pointedly not looking at Stiles. Well he had never imagined that he would be having this conversation in circumstances like this…

"I guess? I mean I don't really know and I don't think he knows," Stiles grumbled out.

"What about… Lydia?"

"She's only got eyes for Jackson," Stiles sighed.

There was so much more than that to it, but he didn't really want to get into it. Seeing Lydia free Jackson from Gerard's control and revert him into something more natural had been a true sign of love and Stiles couldn't exactly ignore that. Complicating matters was how heartbroken she was since Jackson and his family had moved out of State, but apparently they still had plans to get together and were arranging Skype dates and everything. He wasn't blind. And then with everything with Derek… he couldn't say he was still in love with her, but he couldn't say that he was in love with Derek either.

"I-I don't understand… why didn't you ever say anything?"

Stiles frowned, turning to look out the passenger window. "I didn't think… I really had to. I mean it's not…" Finally he shrugged. "I thought I was being transparent about it."

"Is that why you were always hounding Danny about if he thought you were hot or not?"

Stiles smiled at that. "Yes and no. Curiosity, mostly and it was fun bugging him about it." He glanced over at Scott, glad to notice that his friend was beginning to relax.

"Why… Derek?"

"I don't know why, it just happened, kind of like you and Allison just happened."

And that was the truth of it. Why Derek. Really. Well it could have been worse -marginally. He was spared the agony of someone like Jackson or god forbid Jackson himself -and _how_ could anyone ever like that obnoxious prick anyways? He was just Jackson. Derek wasn't Jackson.

Stiles glanced over, seeing Scott's pained face and he winced. His weekend away wouldn't have fixed Scott and Allison's problems. Unfortunately. Unable to just let the silence settle, Stiles flew into a very long and poorly strung together hypothesis about how Derek's kidnapping was supposed to bring the pack closer. It probably would, but not for the reasons they had expected. The pack was more likely to bond over having nearly caught Derek and Stiles _together_, and even them knowing about it seemed weird.

Then again, Stiles was still half-expecting this whole thing to be a dream. The awareness that it was most definitely not a dream, flew into his face when Scott stopped in front of his house. And this was going to be bad. Like awful bad. What was he supposed to tell his father now? It had barely been two weeks since Gerard kidnapped him and now… well their already frayed relationship wasn't about to get any better. He had to stick with it being a prank and let his overactive mind/mouth ability chatter on about whatever came to mind.

Stiles said an awkward goodbye to his best friend before tentatively letting himself into the house. Where his father was waiting, clearly unimpressed and annoyed. So, he did believe the pranking excuse then. Well, that was a relief.

"Stiles!"

"He-hey Dad," he laughed nervously, flashing him a grin. "I'm fine. It was a great joke -Scott totally bought it."

* * *

Derek wasn't sure why he did it. Maybe it was all Peter's nagging, or Erica's whining. But either way, he grudgingly signed the contract. It was a lease for an apartment in Beacon Hills. One bedroom, bathroom and enough space for a desk in the corner with a kitchen and a living room that tumbled into each other. He liked the cramped living quarters, it would discourage Peter from staying any closer than he already was.

As he carried his duffle bag of clothes into the apartment, he realized that he would probably have to do something about the futon in the living room. Peter might take it as an invitation. He folded it back into a regular couch, flopping himself down onto it and hearing a satisfying crunch. He would replace it if the owner ever noticed or cared for him to. The money wasn't a problem for either him or his uncle. And the best part about this apartment was that the other rooms were currently rented and no one's lease would be up for at least two years.

He liked how dim the apartment was, with its dark and heavy curtains that only let an outline of the sunlight in. The place was comfortable enough. It smelled of disinfectant and bleach and there were faint residual scents of the previous occupant behind, most of which was overpowered by the scent of cleaning products. This place would do. It would have to.

He could still smell the teenager's scent, clinging to his clean laundry as stubbornly as the boy had fought Derek's silences. Stiles had given him heck about his 'creepiness' being even more so considering that he lived in the burned down Hale house where most of his family had died. Derek scowled. Peter had been nagging him about how morbid it was for awhile now and Erica hadn't stopped whining since he took her, Isaac and Boyd out to meet Peter. A choice that had been very far from his control. At least Isaac and Boyd hadn't complained about the place.

Peter's laugh still rang in his ears and he spent a moment on turning his clawed hand back into a human one. He wished Peter was wrong about needing help -he would rather turn to Scott or even Stiles before he ever went to his uncle. And worse yet, dumb and dumber would never be able to help him. He knew that much without having to ask. Accepting Peter was the obvious solution, which only made the situation worse. It made it shift towards Peter's favor.

The time Derek could get to himself, he would like to keep to himself. Which was why he was here, in this apartment, by himself. Although his pack was important, for the time he had left before someone found out he was here, he was going to enjoy it. At least he had traded numbers with them, which made this whole thing a lot easier. The only trouble he could get were from the Argents, the Alpha Pack and the law.

The cold hand of dread stabbed into his gut viciously. Stiles could tell his father a number of things -including the truth -and Derek would find himself in trouble with the sheriff's office again. Only this time, he had done something. He kidnapped the teenaged son of the _sheriff_ and he had let feelings and physicality mix -which was never and would never be a good thing. Then he had all but shoved said teenager out of his house, to Scott, without ever dealing with what had just happened.

He didn't need anyone else telling him how badly he had screwed up. The shame was firmly lodged there, right beside his wolf, both of which were ready to knock him over the head. Similarly, anger and frustration coupled with a sense of mortifying guilt weren't helping him out. He half wanted to tear his uncle to pieces for what he had done, but he needed the bastard and they both knew it. The other half of him wanted to run straight to the teenager he had probably hurt -but he wouldn't. If he apologized for it, he would be forgiven and Stiles would get a different idea about their friendship and would want more.

More was not something he had to give. It was better of Stiles was hurt and angry about the whole thing. It would keep things from getting out of hand and from getting complicated. Explaining it would only make the whole situation worse than it already was.

He exhaled, settling his antsy wolf as he sensed his uncle's approach. If there was any other option, he would take it. Nearly anything was better than having to endure the traitorous Peter. He didn't make a move to let the man in when he knocked. His uncle was not welcome.

"Oh come on, Derek, really now?" Peter breathed out.

Stubbornly, Derek did not move.

"You don't want our neighbors meeting me like this, Derek," he replied affably.

With a long-suffering sigh, Derek got up and slowly made his way to the door before allowing Peter in

"Nice place," Peter commented. "Very nice. Can't say much for the scenery."

"You're not staying," he growled.

"Not for your poor, aging uncle, surely," Peter drawled.

Derek scoffed dryly. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"It's been eight years Derek. Maybe I just want to catch up."

Derek shot him a flat, unimpressed look. The day he believed his uncle's motivations stemmed from genuine care, would be the day he rolled over and asked for a belly rub from the nearest human.

"Alright, so you caught me," he sighed, throwing his hands up as he walked past Derek.

He considered blocking his uncle and throwing him back out for waltzing in; but it was Peter, and there wasn't much point to it. It wouldn't have been anything other than his wolf trying to rip his head from his shoulders in retaliation.

"I... may have caught onto some rather interesting rumors. About you, and a young man, in particular."

"Of course," Derek growled out tersely. "I don't want to hear what you have to say. I don't care. My sex life is off limits, _officially._" It wasn't surprising they had discussed it. It was surprising that Peter had been in the vicinity to hear.

"Not when it's pack business too," Peter retorted, spinning on his heel to look back at Derek as he perched against a wall. "Pack business is pack business and the fact that said young man is underage, the sheriff's son and, from my understanding, possibly left heartbroken by your brutish manners... I'd say we need to talk."

Derek growled lowly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You have to tell someone," Peter practically crooned, a smirk flashing onto his face. "It's okay if you're gay, nephew, I still accept you." Derek snarled, lunging towards him, slamming his hand around his uncle's neck. "Such a loose cannon," he laughed, looking barely phased by Derek's attack.

"Shut up," he growled threateningly.

"You're so out of control, you'd kill him if you ever-"

Derek pressed harder, feeling dry wall crumble over his hand as he cut off Peter's air supply. "_Shut up_."

Stiles was not something he was going to bring up around the pack. It would happen eventually, but he would assert his point and they would have to live with it. He was living with what he had done, and Stiles was living with it. He didn't need anyone else's opinion; in fact, he didn't want to hear them. Sure, it was stupid to do what he had done with Stiles -he was underage and the sheriff's son. Derek could be sentenced to jail. Could be. He had a hopeful feeling that Stiles wouldn't sell him out... not that he had done much since he booted him out to deserve that.

But, first priority was to deal with this problem. Peter was choking and gasping for breath, finally tilting his head submissively. Derek slowly withdrew his hand, teeth clacking together in a warning.

"Well... lessons then?" Peter coughed out, rubbing along his slower-healing neck. "Need to work on that temper Derek."

He scoffed dryly, letting his wolf recede even though it didn't want to. Instinct warred with humanity for a second longer before he reestablished his control and turned to Peter sullenly, ready to learn from the one person he wanted nothing to do with.

* * *

_So... does anyone mind me switching to Derek's point of view every now and then? I'm a lot more comfortable at writing his perspective. I understand him better than Stiles, at any case._

_Thanks for all the faves/follows and reviews! I love hearing from you guys. _


	9. Dreamin' Men

He stopped the scream in mid yell, shoving a balled up corner of blanket into his mouth to drown out the sound so that his father wasn't stumbling of bed, gun drawn. Gerard had let him go only slightly worse for wear -although it felt as though his body was a solid mass of black and blue bruises -but he was still waking up in the middle of the night. He was still watching as Erica and Boyd were killed; some sick twist his head kept putting on the events that had happened, leaving behind a splatter of blood and gore, echoing screams and that psychotic old man's face. That weekend at Derek's had the been the closest he'd gotten to a good night's sleep in weeks.

He hadn't told his father about the dreams. And he hadn't brought it up with Ms. Morrell either. At least, not the specifics. Because he didn't want to be sent to a mental ward and that was a possibility. Werewolves, Kanimas, psychotic murdering uncles, evil grandfathers and kidnapping schemes were not sane person talk. He sighed, his body relaxing, and he sat up slowly, spitting out the balled up corner of blanket. Scott was far too busy to listen; Allison and Lydia were unreachable acquaintances at best like Danny. Talking to anyone of Derek's pack was entirely out of the question. There was no one who was in on Beacon Hills' biggest secret that he could tell.

He ran a hand down his sweaty face and took a deep, calming breath. Everything would work out in the end. He just needed some time for the dust to settle and it would be better. It would have to be. Restlessly he got out of bed only then noticing the cool breeze that assaulted his bare arms and legs, and the open window. A window he distinctly remembered shutting earlier that night. A wave of cold dread settled over him, washing through until his very nerves seemed to be burning with adrenaline.

"It's just me. I'm not here to kill you," the familiar gruff voice stated, although it did little to reassure Stiles.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" he snapped, sitting back down heavily.

"I thought you were being attacked," he disagreed. "Your heart was beating faster and I heard you shout."

"It-it was nothing," Stiles growled. "Just a dream!" He hadn't even noticed him creep in -how was that possible? Oh, right. Werewolf.

Heavier silence fell over the room, mostly noticeable by the lack of noise coming from the alpha.

"So… you can leave, now," Stiles added testily, sitting back down as if that had been his intention all along. He _hadn't_ just realized that it was Derek Hale, with the abs and the attitude and the smile… He had, however, just remembered their parting terms: silence.

"I-I… sorry," Derek said, almost stumbling over the words as he walked back towards the window.

"Wait," Stiles added reluctantly, trying to peer through the darkness, only able to see the outline of his form from the light outside. "You… you were either outside my house being a creeper, or a stalker, and you knew or you came from who-knows how far because you thought I _might_ have been in danger?"

Derek didn't answer. If it was at all possible, the silent silence was more deafening than before.

Stiles scowled. "So you are just a creeper, aren't you? Hiding out around my house, waiting for the perfect chance to break in -you know, that's not a very good way for you to make up with the sheriff-" or his son, for that matter "for what purpose? Robbery, kidnapping. Something more sinister perhaps-"

"Shut up," Derek growled in the darkness. "I was doing the usual perimeter patrols that I do and I heard -well I thought that I heard that you were in danger, alright?"

"So you still care about my physical well-being?" Stiles snarked. "Because it really didn't seem that way just yesterday. You fucking kidnapped me and-and we did stuff, that I would never have done if it only meant that we were being physical!" he hissed loudly.

Stiles frustrated reached over, slamming his lamp on so that he could see more than the man's outline. Red eyes flared for a brief moment and Stiles realized with surprise that Derek actually looked _ashamed_. And that had… that was not what he was expected. Derek seemed to pause, tilting his head to the side and listening before closing the window and moving towards Stiles' bed.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, the words sounding not quite forced but awkward. Maybe it had been a long time since he had ever been required to apologize to someone. He definitely wasn't very social so that was definitely a possibility. "I… I handled that very poorly, and I'm sorry. It's…" he exhaled softly, not quite a laugh but not only a sigh either. "I avoid situations like this."

"Situations like this?" Stiles repeated dryly. "Boyfriend situations? Girlfriend situations? People you grind against and kiss and share -"

"Yes," Derek cut him off quickly.

Awkward silence fell between them and Stiles sighed, reminding himself that Derek was Mr. Anti-social Hermit who lived in a freaking burned down house. The resident creepy stalker of Beacon Hills.

"Okay… wanna share why?" he asked, glancing up at Derek.

"Not really," Derek hedged. "But I owe you an explanation."

Stiles didn't have a chance to ask Derek to elaborate before the man was opening up more than he had ever seen him before. He talked about Kate. And while Stiles had known some of what had happened, he hadn't known all of it. Derek didn't state that he was dating Kate, he didn't state that she was using him, but he talked about her nonetheless before trailing off. Kate had used him to get to his family and kill them all. And it wasn't Derek's fault, he hadn't known -he _couldn't_ have known. When things like that happen to someone though, it often made trusting hard again.

Stiles did the math quickly. Derek probably hadn't been in a real relationship since then. It made sense why he mentioned how his sister was pushing him to go out on dates and everything and no doubt obviously explained why they wouldn't have gone over well. Stiles could just picture Derek out at some fancy Italian restaurant in New York with a hot young woman firing question after question at him and only ever getting one word answers. He could even see the wine fly out from the glass and slap Derek in the face and Stiles threw his arms around Derek with a hidden chuckle as he hugged the man.

"It's okay," Stiles mumbled into his shoulder.

Silence fell, and just listening to the soothing and reassuring breaths that Derek was taking, Stiles could feel his exhaustion pulling at him even as his sleep-addled brain kept trying to process a million and one conversation pieces, nothing was coming together the way it was supposed to. Stiles felt the way that he took a breath whenever Derek did, that pesky human thing, and he tried to stop only to struggle and give up when the effort required more effort than wiggling his pinky finger.

"How long?" Derek's voice came suddenly, low and quiet in the dark of night.

"Wha?" he asked sleepily, blinking, trying to summon enough effort to remain awake.

"How long have you been having these nightmares?"

"'Few weeks?" Stiles slurred tiredly, resting his head back on the tender part of Derek's shoulder. Much better than a pillow. Mm, smelled nicer too. Like leather and spruce -and it was almost like a Christmassy delight come a month and a half too early.

"What happens, in the dreams?"

Stiles frowned exhaustedly, "People _die_ and no one comes and there's-there's screams and blood and old men and s'gross."

When he was more coherent, Stiles would later come to the conclusion that Derek had taken advantage of his addled brain that couldn't process this coherently so late in the night. Well, technically, it was early in the morning. And how did Derek manage to stay that good looking the next day if he was up at this time every day? Maybe he slept like dogs did.

Derek set his hand on his back and eased them back until neither of them were sitting and Stiles could swear he heard the older man sigh, the vibe of good energy and fondness washing over him as Stiles cuddled up to his own personal furnace.

Thus, when Stiles awoke, completely alone, he wasn't entirely sure that the events that took place the previous night had not been some weird dream. Until he noticed the way that there was another indentation and rumples in his sheets that could have only been made by another body. Or, by Stiles rolling around in his sleep. In an effort to prove to himself that it _was_ a dream, he rolled onto his stomach and inhaled the familiar scent of his pillow and his own smell and the blankets and -there. There, was the faint scent of leather -a scent that most certainly was not Stiles'. And that was how his father found him, lying face-down and inhaling the leather scent that was clinging just below his pillow.

"I'm not even gonna ask," his father said, shaking his head. "But Scott phoned, he said you wouldn't answer your cell."

Stiles rolled over, hand fumbling along his nightstand until he had his cell in hand. There were two missed calls from Scott and about a half a dozen messages from him too. His father left as he clumsily dialed Scott back. He must have been really out of things that he had managed to sleep through that much racket.

"Scott?" he asked, as he sat up, stretching.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out. "I never even -Stiles, I am so, so sorry."

"F-for what?"

"For everything! I mean…. I've been such a-a self-obsessed jerk to you lately!"

More like Allison-obsessed… "Scott, Scott," Stiles coaxed gently. "You're still my friend. And I mean, sure… you've been distracted and everything."

"That doesn't mean I-I… I'm just, I'm so sorry, Stiles."

"Scott," Stiles asked worriedly, "is something wrong?"

Sure it was pretty great to have his best friend back, but this wasn't like him. Well the wolfier him, at any rate. He was more concerned with Allison and lacrosse, but there was still room for Stiles there. He just didn't have the same priority standing. But he had accepted it, more or less.

"Nothing!" his best friend insisted with more vehemence than usual. "I just… I-I feel like I haven't spent anytime with you."

Stiles laughed. "Dude, you spend a lot of the time with me. I don't want to be hanging out with you twenty-four seven anyways." And it was true, excluding the fact that although he and Scott spent a lot of time together, Scott didn't listen to most of what he said. "You sound like someone's got a knife to you, man. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine!" Scott laughed, almost nervously. "Are you?"

"Couldn't be better."

A few quick goodbyes and they ended their call to one another with an agreement to meet up later in the day. Although Stiles was on lockdown, it wouldn't take more than a few hours to drive his father nuts and get him out of the trouble he'd walked into. The Internet privileges would probably still be gone for a few more days before Stiles could drive his father more insane. It was the same as usual, although trouble was a little more serious this time around.

A half an hour later, Stiles was perched at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal and his phone in hand as he skimmed through the messages Scott had left him. He read eleven, all of which contained Scott's sincere apologies and genuine worry before he realized there was still an unread message icon blinking at him. He moved back to his inbox, looking at the unknown number and tentatively clicking to read it.

_Unknown number:_ _Derek Hale._

Curious, Stiles typed back. _Hello?_

_Unknown Number: This is Derek Hale._

Stiles blinked in shock. _Why do you have my number? Why do I have yours?!_

_Derek: Because._

Seriously? As silent in text as he was in person. Stiles scowled. _Because…?_

_Derek: In case you get in trouble and no one else is available. _

Stiles frowned. _I don't need your help._

_Derek: You do. Or you will._

Stiles shuddered in apprehension and moved his phone away from him before taking a bite of his cereal. Derek could be seriously creepy. And that, right there, was practically screaming "I'm an ominous creeper."

So Derek had been here last night. And what exactly had happened? What had he asked and what had Stiles told him? He could remember the dream, and he could actually remember Derek asking him questions but shortly after when Derek finished talking about Kate, it was fuzzy. And it only got fuzzier from there… He could remember the way his shoulder felt, but he couldn't distinctly recall what Derek had been saying or asking about exactly. The dreams, maybe?

And maybe… Maybe that was why Scott had called. If Stiles had mentioned what Gerard said… then Derek had probably told Scott, or at least threatened Scott or harmed him… Stiles frowned. It wasn't Derek's business. And god, he really needed to work on those dreams and the exhaustion and to make sure that he didn't screw this whole thing up. Like telling Derek things he couldn't even remember.

And probably, in his typical fashion, he probably managed to make the whole situation embarrassing. And awful. He frowned intently into his cereal. Well, he would get the story from Scott soon enough.

* * *

_Yowch, I thought this chapter was going to be longer. I fought with it the whole way through._

_Sorry for the later update, had a bit of a struggle writing this. ^_^; _

_I hope you like this chapter, anyways. I'm done school, pretty much, so I should have more time to write until May. If you have any scene or anything that you want to see, please let me know. It helps feed my creative process and I just love hearing from you guys. I love your reviews. Thanks for the patience with this chapter. _


	10. Dear Derek Guess Who Got A Date?

Somehow, meeting up with Scott turned into bowling and seeing just how badly they still sucked. Except for the whole part where Scott had some werewolf super-skills and lessons from Allison which apparently had turned him from a clumsy gutter-ball to a striking genius. Stiles shook his head as he took his turn to bowl. He was perfectly average -the half a dozen birthday parties that took place here during his childhood had led him to be a reasonable player. Lydia would always dominate though -although it could be interesting to see her bowling up against a talented werewolf.

"Why aren't you mad at me?" Scott had asked as soon as Stiles had walked into his house. "You should be mad at me."

"Well I'm not," he replied exasperatedly. "Why exactly do you think I should be?"

Long ago, Stiles had accepted that Scott meant the best -he really did. It wasn't like he had abandoned Stiles to drown or left him in Gerard's care intentionally. Scott hadn't known. The whole kissing Lydia thing was entirely out of his werewolf-y control and Stiles had accepted this. That Scott was relatively helpless and that he wasn't bad intending, and at the end of the day, Scott was still his best friend. They'd known each other for years and none of this was new to Stiles. Scott had been there when he lost his mother and Stiles had been there for Scott when his parents divorced.

"You almost died! Like, three times, because of me!"

"I'm still alive," Stiles said softly. "Besides you were busy trying to protect your mom and the whole school…"

Scott threw his usual pout at him, looking beyond apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"What brought this up anyways?" Stiles asked casually, watching Scott closely. "Did Derek say something to you?"

Scott's desperation to deny that it was Derek gave it away. But, Stiles could deal with his werewolf busybody later, after he spent some time with his best friend. And truthfully, it had been ages since he last went bowling. Stiles was pretty glad to see that despite Scott's new powers, he still was not the world's best at bowling and Stiles kept their scores tied up with only a little bit of a struggle. Laughing, Scott sent him off for some food while he went to go and pay for another game.

When the guy at the counter came to serve him, Stiles was struck speechless.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his eyes lingering on Stiles' before checking him out.

"Uh y-yeah. Just an order of curly fries and nachos and two cokes."

The guy smiled, turning away, he made the two drinks and set them on the counter before going further into the back. He returned shortly after with the nachos. "It'll be a minute for the fries," he explained, smiling at Stiles once more.

Stiles looked over his shoulder, spotting Scott easily standing at the counter and handing over another twelve dollars for a new game between the two of them. From the corner of his eye, he observed the cashier. He was relatively tall and about the same age, with a swarthy complexion. He could just make out the name on his tag, and shifting slightly he was able to make out K and the Y.

"So, is he your boyfriend?"

"What?!" Stiles whirled to look back at the server. "Scott?" he looked back at his goofball friend before shaking. "Nooooo, noooo, he's a friend." Stiles laughed uncomfortably. "Even if he was gay or-or bi or interested, I wouldn't date him. He's like my brother…"

"Well that's good," he said amiably, grinning brightly. "It means I have a chance, doesn't it?"

Stiles stared at him in surprise. Was this… an elaborate prank? Or a dream? It could be a dream. Maybe when he thought he woke up this morning, he never really did. He could still be asleep… Except the werewolf part was still happening so maybe it wasn't a dream. If it was, it was certainly dragging on for quite a while with way too much detail. Like KY's smile. He had a really nice smile. Wow. Someone was taking an unprecedented interest in him. Possibly.

"I-I'm single," Stiles stuttered out.

"Great!" he said enthusiastically, turning to face Stiles and he could finally see the whole of his name tag. Kyle. "Do you want to go see a movie or something?"

"U-uh sure? When?"

"How about tomorrow at six? We can see Skyfall?"

"Sure!"

Kyle grinned, "I'm Kyle, by the way, but you could probably tell from the nametag. He dug in his pocket, pulling out his cell he handed it over to Stiles. "Can I get your number?"

Stiles tapped his name and number into the other's phone, smiling at him. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. Kyle seemed like a really nice guy, holding up the conversation as he went to the back and grabbed the nachos and curly fries. He passed them over to Stiles with a warm smile, his fingers brushing over Stiles. Reluctantly, Stiles carried their drinks and food back to the table where Scott was already seated, watching Stiles with something close to concern written over his face.

"What?" he asked, as he sat down.

Scott picked up his cardboard tray, tugging the nachos closer. "That was…?"

"Kyle. He asked me out. We're going to see Skyfall."

"And he just… asked you out?"

"Isn't that usually how it works?"

"Well, yeah I just… Derek's not going to be happy."

Obviously Derek had some feelings for him but… There was no harm in one date. Derek hadn't even taken him on a date before.

"If he was interested, he could have made a move."

"You know it's more complicated with Derek…"

"Why are you defending him, exactly?"

"I kind of spend a lot of time with the pack and if Derek's antsy, they're antsy."

Stiles paused. "You won't say anything, will you?"

"No! Of course not!" Scott grinned. "I'm really happy for you Stiles. At least… Kyle's close to your age... It'll just be a little rocky when our schools clash in lacrosse…"

"He's on the team?!"

"Yeah, he's the captain for Davis High or something. Jackson talks about him all the time."

"Wow. Didn't see that coming." Stiles glanced back over at Kyle, smiling at the other guy. Stiles turned back, "So long as Derek doesn't know he'll be okay. Wait. He'll be able to smell him, won't he…?"

"And if he knows he'll probably send Isaac and Erica out to rip his throat out…"

"No he wouldn't," Stiles rationalized. "He doesn't care that much about me. And besides, Kyle seems like a good guy and if we're not compatible or he's not that good, well I can sort that out on my own."

When they had finished eating and Scott had had enough of watching Stiles and Kyle trade sneaky glances, they finally got up to leave. Stiles was going out after Scott, on the way to his jeep when he suddenly found himself cornered by Peter. Literally, one second there had been no one in the parking lot and only two or three vehicles there when Peter sprang up in front of him. And then he kept moving, and despite Stiles' best attempts, Derek's uncle was able to separate him from Scott easily.

"What's this I've been hearing?" he inquired pleasantly. "You were caught in bed with Derek?" There was a far too kind expression on his face, and the look in his eyes had Stiles' hair standing on end.

"I wasn't aware that you were all that interested in your nephew's bed."

Peter rolled his eyes. "It's good for him, really. And how was it for you? You look like you're in one piece -that's always important." He laughed, teeth flashing in the dark of the night.

Stiles felt his face bloom crimson. "I-I-I that's, really, it was -it was - perfectly fine!" he replied, flabbergasted.

"Just fine?" Peter asked, sounding nearly offended. "No stars? Well I guess my nephew hasn't been half as busy as he ought to have been."

"Whoa, no it was - why are we talking about this?" Stiles demanded, grasping onto this topic desperately. His sex life was so far off topic that no one should be going anywhere near it. Nosy werewolves. And where was Scott? He backed up, putting some more space between him and Peter.

"Because I'm a concerned uncle."

"Uncles don't need to know that much!"

"Well I heard about it already," he laughed. "Derek had you in the palm of his hand, didn't he?"

Up until that moment that the pack had totally crashed their… sexy time. "What do you want?" he asked, moving further away.

Peter followed unconcernedly. "I want to make sure you'll look after my nephew properly. He's hopeless at it himself."

"He can continue being hopeless himself," Stiles growled, setting to make his way back to the jeep. Where was Scott anyways?

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, following along beside him.

"I have a date - like a real one, with a nice guy. Who asked me to a date without having physically harmed me or humping me in my sleep."

Stiles bit down on his lip when that last part escaped, glancing at Peter worriedly. The older man started laughing. And Stiles used that chance to escape, ducking out to his jeep where Scott was waiting for him. Best friend forever, Stiles rolled his eyes good-naturedly as he got in. Scott had at least been facing them, looking unsure over whether he wanted to get involved or not. But judging by the awkward expression he had, Stiles was relatively sure he wished he didn't have werewolf hearing as he drove back to Scott's place.

* * *

Derek was in the middle of his exercises when Peter strode into his apartment, the distinct odor of smug superiority swirling around the older man. Derek sat up from his fifteenth crunch, eyeing his uncle suspiciously. Peter being smug was never a good thing.

"Oh Derek, you'll never believe the gossip."

Derek didn't waste time, scowling at Peter unimpressed.

"Stiles got himself a date. And my, the boy is ever so gorgeous."

Derek blinked, turning to look at Peter slowly. "He's... going on a date?"

"Oh yes, he certainly is," Peter laughed. "And it isn't with you or even someone Stiles actually knows. Some guy who works at the bowling alley."

Derek frowned, his hands curling into fists. "Well. Good for him."

"They're going to the movies. To watch James Bond, everyone's wet dream," he laughed.

"Just yours Peter," Derek quipped, scowling at his feet.

"Oh pssh, this new Bond has got nothing on Sean Connery."

"I don't want to know."

"Stiles is apparently quite the catch. Did you know he can cook? And clean. Wow, dream boy, huh?"

Derek shot Peter a cold glare. "Shut. Up."

Peter laughed harder. "You have some competition nephew. Good luck, my blessings to you both." With a cackle he walked back out of the apartment.

Derek counted to six before he punched the wall. His fist went through the plaster easily, crumbling around him. With a growl he pulled his hand back, glaring at the wall. If Stiles wanted to date, he was more than welcome to. Actually, all the better to him for following his desires. With a younger, handsome man who he barely knew. If whoever Stiles was dating did anything -_anything_ -untoward to the boy, he would be strung up by his ankles and murdered violently. The Sheriff would never have to worry about finding the body. Derek could take care of that.

If anything, he was happy for the teen.

He had no reason to be anything else. He made a fist again. Definitely happy for Stiles. He needed a healthy relationship in his life -one with another emotionally available man or woman. Unlike both himself and Lydia.

It was going to go well for Stiles. Stiles would be happy and in a few more months, he had the stranger would break up. And things would be normal. Absolutely normal.

And Derek would be happy for him in the meantime. He had no reason to be jealous or angry. Stiles was moving on, just as he was supposed to. This way Stiles wouldn't get hurt. No emotional or psychological scars -god forbid, no physical ones from a werewolf lashing out in a rage -he would be happy and healthy. And if he wasn't, Derek was going to be there to deal with things.

* * *

_Sorry for the late update! I had exams and a classmate of mine passed away and my friend is moving and it's hectic at the moment. Also I'm back to school for a three/four week intensive course. _

_Also, I kind of hate this chapter... Next chapter will be more Derek POV though. _

_Magic Howl, next chapter you will be quite pleased with, I think. As soon I get there :)_

_Puckurt, so happy to hear from you again :D I hope you enjoy this chapter._

_Everyone, so glad to have heard from you. Thank you for all the feedback. :)_

_Please be patient, it's hectic, I'm so sorry for the late update DX I'll try and get what I can done._

_Also, for anyone who is really dedicated and wants to know when I'm updating and all you can follow me on Twitter. Kinthinia. I tend to post about what's going on to hinder my progress and when I'm writing. Sometimes I post little teasers or ideas. Often while writing I post questions related to the chapter as I write about it XD. Have a happy weekend, everyone. _


	11. Trespassing and Date Crashing

"You do realize this is unhealthy and bordering on obsessive right?" Peter drawled after him, a cackle of laughter echoing as Derek grabbed his keys and walked out the door.

There was only one showing of Skyfall, so that would be the one Stiles and _that other guy_ went to. It hadn't taken much to get the name of the film from Scott, with a growl down the line of the phone, Scott had easily acquiesced with giving Derek the information he was looking for. He stalked to his Camaro, resisting the urge to throw the door open as he got in and backed out of his parking spot. He raced down to where the theatre was, nerves on fire.

The only reason he was going to this stupid place was to make sure Stiles wasn't a total idiot. This kid Peter had mentioned could easily be part of the Alpha Pack, if they _had_ decided to show yet. The worst situation would be if the bratty teenager turned out to be a hunter -they weren't all Argents out there, or connected to the Argents. Occasionally they caught wind of werewolf activity, and rarely were their families murdered by raging 'wolves, but it had happened before. A good hunter would be able to recognize the signs in this town. Although to follow protocol, the hunter would be required to check in with the Argents -but hunters were like Kate and they used the rules to their convenience.

Derek slammed his car into park, slinking out of his car and stalking into the building. It smelled overwhelmingly of grease and hormones. He fought a sneeze off, walking to the ticket booth just as the saleswoman taped down a sign to the front of her desk.

_Tickets to see Skyfall at 6:15pm, November 25th are all sold out._

Derek flashed her a charming smile, fighting his annoyance off.

* * *

Stiles had been assigned to seat duty while Kyle went back out to get popcorn and pop. During this highly important time, Stiles contemplated whether he should have mentioned this part to his father. He'd just said he was going out to see the movie. He didn't mention that it was a date. Or that it was a date with a boy. And sooner or later he and his father would have to have a little talk about this, just to clarify things. But there was no point, Stiles rationalized, unless Kyle seemed like a real keeper or something serious. He was friendly and _definitely_ cute, but Stiles didn't know anything more about the guy. Which was why they were on a date -at least Stiles hoped that was the idea. Not to say that he wouldn't jump at the thought or opportunity of some physical acquaintance, but he would like to say definitively that he liked Kyle. He knew he was attracted and he could safely say the same, every time he caught Kyle checking him out. It was welcome, in that Kyle's looks were reassuring that he was good-looking, that his plaid and jeans and hair were just fine without making him feel like a slab of meat. It was good attention, in a good way.

Stiles was in the midst of being all fluttery over his first date when a dark shadow entered the room and he craned his neck around to look at the figure -there were about forty minutes until the movie started, and so far the place was relatively empty -and Stiles' jaw dropped when he saw the figure. Because there was no way that Derek Hale was here. There was no way Derek frickin' Hale was going to crash his very first and so far only date in history, before it had even happened. Derek met his eyes unflinching as he walked towards him -and Stiles suddenly wasn't sure what to do, whether he should look away and pretend he didn't know Derek or chew him out.

And then, Derek sat down. Directly behind where and Stiles and Kyle were going to sit. Stiles had the strangest feeling, that even if he moved three rows down, he would find that Derek followed him. Seriously, if he was here because of whatever Peter had said, he could have sat literally anywhere else in the theatre and still been able to hear and see whatever Stiles and Kyle did. Which wasn't reassuring, but some space would be. Considering their… history, if it could even be called that.

Stiles turned around, "I didn't know you were a James Bond kind of guy," he said dryly.

"I'm not remotely interested."

"Then why are you here?" he demanded, exasperated.

"Keeping you out of trouble," Derek hissed back, glaring at him. "You don't even know the guy -"

"That's the point of it!" Stiles hissed. "It's a date -not you and me not you as a third wheel, this is between me and Kyle and has _nothing_ to do with you."

He went to turn back around when he felt Derek's hand on his shoulder -and was that his imagination or were there claws brushing against his jugular? Right. Werewolf. Werewolf vs puny human fodder = dead Stiles.

"What if he's a hunter? Or part of the Alpha Pack?" Derek cast a cautionary glance around the room.

"Seeing as if he was either, you could tell with one sniff," Stiles retorted, pulling back from his grasp. "Now leave me alone Derek. I don't even want to know what Peter said, but I'm okay. Kyle's a good guy."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Peter didn't say anything."

Stiles gave him a look -one that adequately surmised his feelings of "do you think I'm that stupid to believe you?"

"Really? So Peter _didn't_ say anything and you're sitting here because although James Bond doesn't interest you even a little, you decided to watch it."

"Yes," he said, as though that was the only answer in the world. Derek leaned back, settling into his chair and Stiles sat up a little, twisting his body around to glare at him. "Your _boyfriend_ might get the wrong idea if you keep looking at me like that," Derek quipped, a smirk tugging along his lips as he tapped his boot against the back of Stiles' chair with an audible _thud_.

Stiles turned back quickly, spotting Kyle walking down towards them. Stiles leapt to his feet, grabbing their coats and hurrying towards Kyle, to try and meet him halfway and keep them from winding up in front of Derek Hale. Behind him would have been just as bad, but unfortunately Stiles didn't even make it that far. There was clumsy, and awkward and then there was the Stiles Stilinski clumsy-awkward that no one should have to witness. And no should live through it either, he added to himself as he stared at the floor suddenly beneath him.

His jacket caught on the chair's folding mechanism, and since they had seated themselves close to the aisle, Stiles didn't notice until it was too late when there was resistance. Still, moving forward, he gave the jacket a tug without paying it much attention and when it suddenly snapped free, it was enough to send him into a sprawled heap of limbs, his face perfectly acquainted with the floor. He jumped back to his feet, looking at Kyle's surprised face and able to hear Derek's snicker, he scowled and grabbed Kyle's hand, hauling his _boyfriend_ three rows ahead of Derek. Just to be on the safe side.

Three rows should be far enough right? No, werewolves had good enough sight that Derek could probably fling popcorn at them through the duration of the movie and Stiles wouldn't be able to stop him. However, Derek didn't have popcorn and it seemed unlikely that he would take such a juvenile approach to their date -then again, Stiles hadn't expected him to start date crashing either.

"Uh, are you alright?" Kyle asked, looking at Stiles with a slight smile. He reached over with his free hand, the popcorn perfectly balanced on his lap to rub Stiles' forehead.

Another flush of mortification ran through his system. "Totally," he lied with an enthusiastic smile.

"Why are we sitting here now?" Kyle asked, shifting slightly, setting his hand back around the popcorn in case it tipped or something.

"These seats are better."

"But they're so close -"

"You don't like them?" Stiles asked, suddenly worried. Putting space between him and Derek was only going to work if Kyle was still interested. And he had just seen some very Stiles moments there, prime examples really. It could only get worse.

"Well, no, just, I liked the other ones better. But these are fine," Kyle quickly added.

"Good," Stiles said, relieved. "I know they're a little close…"

Okay, so maybe a lot close. They were about four rows away from the screen. If anything exciting happened at the top of it, they would probably have to lean their heads back just a little. Just a little -not that bad. They were safe -saf_er_ -from Derek now. And that was the main thing. Stiles grinned at Kyle, taking his pop and leaping into conversation about the other James Bond movies he'd seen and quickly bringing Kyle into a debate over had made the better James Bond -Sean Connery or Daniel Craig. Stiles credited the technology advantage to Daniel Craig, with the special effects and everything, but he found Sean Connery to be more suave and fitting for the role. Kyle tried to argue the opposite, but his debate was poorly formed and his heart wasn't into it. Abruptly Stiles tried to change topic, to something that would keep their maybe-relationship afloat, and someway that he could save face with Derek listening on.

By the time the commercials had started, Kyle was looking kind of dazed and Stiles had nearly finished his drink with all the talking he'd gotten out. Feeling self-conscious, Stiles shifted nervously. If they survived this date, then things would be going really great. Honestly. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Kyle's hand settle over his hand, resting it on his knee and he looked over. Kyle was just smiling, his attention on the big screen but he gave a subtle wink to Stiles.

And, by the end of the movie, Stiles had mostly forgotten that Derek was even there with the way Kyle was fond of leaning over to whisper something to him, his lips ghosting over Stiles' ear. There was definitely no way for Stiles to blush any brighter, but he liked Kyle's random trivia and their closeness while at the same time it felt almost suffocating. When the lights came back on, Stiles wasn't sure whether he should be bolting or not, all things considered. It had been awkward, but it hadn't been bad exactly. Beyond his faceplant, of course. The theatre was packed. Without thinking, Stiles squeezed Kyle's hand when he felt his date preparing to stand. If Derek was going to at least try and not look like a stalker, he would have to leave first so that when Stiles turned around, he couldn't see him and accuse him of it. If he had been there, Stiles would have so charged him.

Turning, he found that there was just a swarm of bodies moving and hurrying to get out of the theatre in their rush for home and bathroom breaks. "Why don't we wait till it thins down a bit fi-" he started to say, turning back to Kyle when abruptly he found the other's lips against his.

The panic of confusion was the first thing he registered, and quickly following that was pure happiness as he kissed Kyle back -trying not to be clumsy about it -_and really, when was he _not_ clumsy?_ -but Kyle didn't seem too concerned about it as he settled his arm around Stiles shoulder, his tongue prodding against Stiles' lip playfully. Or at least, that's what it was until Kyle was physically hauled away from Stiles and he realized abruptly that he was alone in a dark theatre, as the emergency exit door slammed shut, the locking clicking into place behind it.

"Derek!" he shouted, launching to his feet and towards the door. Maybe he should have called Kyle's name, but he was pretty sure that Kyle wouldn't be able to reply and that Derek wouldn't kill him. He was about seventy-five percent sure, anyways that Derek wouldn't hurt Kyle. Unless Kyle smelled of wolfsbane or wolf, in which case, he was sure Kyle would be dead or nearly dead by the time he got through the emergency exit door.

He stumbled out into the alley behind the building, to find Derek pinning Kyle up against the wall, growing at him as his nails alternated between elongating into claws and back into human nails. Were his eyes red too?! Stiles panicked, throwing himself against Derek for all the good it would do. Derek simply flexed his arm, using his elbow to push Stiles back off him really quite easily. Stiles didn't have the patience to be exasperated or get angrier than he already was.

"Fuck you Derek!" he spat, trying to pull his hand back. Kyle was watching with horror and fear, straining to get his feet to the ground. "Let him go -you have no right!"

Derek abruptly dropped Kyle, whirling onto Stiles as his eyes flashed red. "I have every right," he growled.

Kyle dropped to the ground, rolling onto his feet as he ran down the alley, throwing one last glance over his shoulder before he disappeared. Stiles felt hurt bubbling up underneath his simmering rage as he shoved at Derek angrily. The werewolf didn't move, didn't even flinch, and the asshole couldn't even bother to make it look like Stiles' shove was more than a mosquito bite of annoyance.

"See? He doesn't care about you," Derek countered, gesturing to where Kyle had just disappeared. "He ran, Stiles."

"So what?!" he cried, outraged. "If I had any brains, I would have run too. You're six feet tall and like two hundred pounds of muscle -who wouldn't?! Not to mention you're just some random guy -"

"You didn't tell him?" Derek's brows came together in a frown, his lips pursing as the red faded from his eyes.

"No! Why would I? I'm trying to have a relationship here, Derek -I'm not looking for a lay."

"You're ashamed?" he asked, quiet, his gray eyes penetrating.

Stiles frowned at the older man, fighting off his rage as he tried to get some sense of how Derek was feeling about this possible revelation, managing an exasperated, "No, yes. Jesus, I don't even know. But I'm not going to walk around advertising that my first sexual experience happened when I was half-asleep and…" he scowled. "I want a _meaningful_ relationship," Stiles stressed. "I want a first love and everything that goes with that."

He wanted someone he could share his everything with. He wanted someone he could love and who would love him back, and when they kissed there would eventually be something special about it. They would be in love with each other, trading off lovesick looks like Allison and Scott did, and he would dedicate everything he could to his partner. And one they might drift apart and break up, or argue over something and break up and Stiles would be heartbroken but he wouldn't quite give-up. He would stay in touch and they would be friends, at the very least. That was what Stiles wanted. He didn't want to be just an accident, or someone who was convenient. He wanted to be the person that his partner wanted, that when they were loving each other, it was something they were sharing between them. He didn't want it to be about the sex, about a record or whatever other reasons -it was supposed to be about love.

There were times where it would be about sex, of course, but it was also supposed to be about love. If it was to be meaningful. And being with anyone who found what should have been meaningful, to instead be less than what it was, was not someone Stiles wanted to be involved with. Even if he was all six feet of gorgeousness and stock full of protective that was wired into his bones -there was no way it was going to happen again. Because Stiles didn't want someone who treated him like crap. He wanted love, as simple as that.

His parents loved each other, more than anything. His father still wore his wedding ring to remember his late wife, he was still faithful to her, even though it was nearing a decade since she passed. Stiles' heart clenched in memory of her, her smile and her words. How when he knew he was in love with Lydia Martin, she sat him down and they had a talk. It was one of the clearest memories he had of his mother, when she was still the healthy and radiant woman she had been in his childhood. Before she was hospitalized -before everything.

Love was a gift, she had said, a very special one that required a lot of work and persistence. Like when his father had asked her out and she hadn't been sure of his intentions, she rejected him. But her father was always there for her, when she needed him to be and finally, she was the one who asked him out. And while they had their rocky bits, fighting between their parents and in-laws, stressed over having a baby, they managed. They loved each other, truly.

For Stiles, no other relationship would do. He wanted to have someone he loved -like Lydia, like Derek -only with their feelings reciprocated. He had been doing his best lately to at least be honest that he had some feelings for the sourwolf without dwelling on them or making them out to be something great. Because, really, that was one of the worst moments he had experienced. Being shunned aside and ignored -and he felt like a kid for it. Expecting too much, wanting too much. Lesson learned, Derek Hale, lesson learned.

Stiles looked up at the older man, at the werewolf wearily. "You don't get to come crashing my dates. I'm fine on my own, whatever Scott or stupid Peter have to say."

And wow, way to go Scott, Stiles realized as he saw the look on Derek's face. Of _course_ Scott would have told the Alpha where to find him, if only because he didn't trust Kyle. Stiles managed a sigh just as he saw Derek stiffen and launch off down the alleyway, leaping up onto the roof of the building before finally disappearing. Not even fifteen seconds later, Kyle rounded the corner looking winded with an officer at his side. He shot Stiles an apologetic look as the officer stepped towards him worriedly and Stiles realized that his father would also be here, in any second. No doubt looking for someone to arrest after having accosted Stiles' boyfriend.

Oh dear god, did his father already know? He had little doubt that his father would be overall okay with Stiles' sexuality. Overall. Eventually. It would take him some getting used to the fact that Stiles liked boys too, that his father might not have a grandchild and that Stiles was more vulnerable than before to being attacked. Speaking of, what had Kyle said about this incident? As he heard another set of police sirens, he winced. This was going to be harder to explain than he wanted it to be.

"Stiles!" came his father's worried voice as he rounded the corner. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, aiming for casual as he shrugged his shoulders.

"What happened?"

"Just.. some guy. I-I don't know, he grabbed Kyle, looked pretty pissed." Helplessly, Stiles looked to Kyle.

Kyle appeared quite white and he looked spooked, too, his eyes almost comically wide. "He- just-just grabbed me!"

"He didn't say anything?" the officer questioned. "To either of you?"

Stiles shook his head wordlessly, glancing at his father.

* * *

_I hope you all like this chapter. Sorry for the long wait, I at least managed to make it longer than my others in hopes of forgiveness :3_

_After Monday I'm free for the rest of the summer, so I'll be writing more frequently and the slow updates won't happen so long as my inspiration sticks around. Which it should. I'm excited for season three, and so happy that I got to see Derek's loft to get a better sense of description considering I do have him in an apartment. _

_If you guys have any requests on things you'd like to see, feel free to let me know. And thanks for sticking around for the updates, glad you guys are still here and reviewing/reading so strong. :D Have a great day!_

_(Ah sorry Magic Howl, it worked out that it won't be this chapter. I will have your scene in, once the timing is right ^_^;)_


End file.
